Harry Potter and the Ministry of Darkness

It had been ages since Harry had a normal night of sleep. But then again, Harry never grew up around normal. He had been through more than anybody else his age, let alone any age, so maybe the convictions were true. However normal or abnormal Harry was, he still went through the things other people went through and a little more, and that made him special in his own way.

Harry's sixteenth birthday was gradually coming up on him. It was already the twenty-seventh of July, so Harry would be expecting another bunch of presents at his windowsill in half a weeks time. When Harry left the Hogwarts Express to go back to 4 Privet Drive, he was very reluctant to attempt a stay there for the entire summer. He knew that if he didn't stay he could be attacked, but he felt that he would rather stand in the middle of a Hungarian Horntail's nest than living with the fact that the only reason he had been so safe up to this point was because of the blood that flowed through his Aunt Petunia's veins.

Life around the Dursleys was just as it was when he left. Obviously his Uncle Vernon had taken Mad-Eye Moody's words to heart, for instead of yelling at Harry and blaming everything on him, he just ignored his nephew completely. Aunt Petunia, however, was acting a little nicer than the previous summer. Instead of leering at Harry wherever he went, she tried to put on a faint smile whenever they caught eyes. And when it came down to it, she would even try to strike up a conversation, but they didn't ever last for more than a minute. Whenever his aunt was not cooking or cleaning, she locked herself in her room. Harry thought that this was very alien of his aunt, for usually she would let her husband in on everything that went on in her mind. However, when she locked herself in her room she would not let anyone in. Sometimes he heard yelling from inside the bedroom, but he had no idea whom it was coming from.

Harry had grown quite a lot during the summer. Instead of having his scraggly build and dismal height, he managed to sprout up a couple inches and get more of a defined build to his body. He had been sneaking into his cousin Dudley's weight room in the basement the past month and had been lifting weight constantly. In fact, Harry even found something called creatine in one of the cupboards downstairs and realized that Dudley had been getting big off of it. Harry had really wanted to get some muscle on his miniscule body, so he took some of the creatine every day and started seeing dramatic changes to his body.

Those weren't the only changes. Among all of the growth, Harry was also getting an attitude change. Through all of the suffering that he had been going through, he seemed to be growing softer and rarely ever had mood swings anymore. The only anger that rushed through his body was the thought that his godfather, his brother, his friend was gone and was never going to come back. Letting the words finally sink in only a week prior, it made him feel as if his very life had disappeared from around him in one swift motion.

Letters were very frequently finding themselves into Harry's possession. He had gotten multiple letters from Ron and Hermione, not to mention a few from his former Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher Remus Lupin about the conditions at the Dursleys and some treats from ninety-three, Diagon Alley. However, when it came the time of his birthday, he received more than just birthday presents, but also some letters that could spell out how the rest of his summer and life could be.

It was a very murky evening in Little Whinging, the colors from the sunset not even visible through the thickness of the clouds. Harry could see lines of rain across the suburb, but it had not yet reached his window. The thunder was rumbling all across the sky, sending out a warning call to the neighborhood that a huge storm was bringing its way into the county of Surrey. Harry was worried. Not even a single parcel had flown through his window for his birthday. Maybe they were all at the headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix, or they were on vacation, or-

Harry couldn't even end the messages in his mind from rolling before his face met with a tiny little bird that had just fluttered its way through his window. Colliding right with his nose, Harry tipped backwards like a jug of water and spilled onto his bedroom floor, glasses flying off of his face. Fumbling around the room, he eventually found his round glasses and pushed them up the bridge of his nose, seeing eye-to-eye with his best friend Ron Weasley's owl, Pigwidgeon.

Flushing with excitement, Harry jumped right off of the floor and dashed toward the window where the little owl was fluttering. Jumping in the air and snatching at the birds leg, he ripped the box out of the owl's talons and tossed it an owl treat. Jumping on top of his bed, he ripped the box open, revealing a watch resembling the clock in Mrs. Weasley's kitchen. Fumbling for the letter, he ripped it open and glanced down on the ink stained parchment.

Dear Harry,

    Happy 16th birthday! Isn't it great knowing that in one year you will be apparating to wherever you please? I personally cannot wait, for it is only a little over seven months before I'll be popping around everywhere like Fred and George.

    Speaking of Fred and George, they are doing excellent. They've been sending us a junk load of their goodies, but every time mum catches the mail first she confiscates it. I told mum that you gave them the Tri-wizard Tournament prize, but she doesn't mind much. Sure, I think she is a little jealous that you gave the money to them, but in the long run it worked out great. Fred and George send some of their profits to our wizarding account in Gringotts, so we will be building on to the house so there is room enough for our family and guests. Fred and George now have over three million galleons, or so they say, so they are getting along really well. In fact, they ended up buying that really old house opposite of the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade and expect to put another outlet for their store right beside it.

    Ginny has invited Dean Thomas over a dozen times already this summer, and for some reason he seems to be dodging me. But don't worry, I had George put a charm on her room so nobody can go in there except for a Weasley, Hermione, or you so nothing bad ends up happening. Just imagine what happened to my sister's friend Vicky Frobisher when she walked in the room. All I can say is that I am confined to my room until further notice.

    The present I got you for your birthday is a Placement watch that my mum made. She charmed it the same way as the one in the living room and everything, minus it being all Weasleys. My mum made me one, too, and I think she is sending one to Hermione for an early birthday present. My hand is starting to get cramped up, so I'm going to close this up with a few guidance words: Don't do anything I wouldn't do!

                    Have a happy birthday,

                          Ron

Laughing to himself after reading the letter, he brought the little watch to his face. Five of the little hands on the watch were pointing to lost, but only because they were currently unlabeled. Three of the hands were all pointing in different directions. The one labeled Harry Potter was pointing to home, while Hermione Granger was aiming toward traveling. Ron's was just like he had explained in the letter, for the tiny hand was pointing toward trouble. There were twelve sections on the watch, all with important places including death and mortal peril, which could help him later on in the year.

Looking up from the trash on his bed, he was awakened by a wonderful sight. Seven owls were all over his room, leering impatiently at Harry with their big brown eyes.Hopping off of the bed, he pulled off letters from two of them and presents from the rest. Giving them all some owl treats, he rushed them out the window and past the foggy horizon. One of the letters he noticed had the Hogwarts seal on it, and an answer popped right into his head -- O.W.L's. There were numerous packages, one from the Advance Guard, Fred and George, Hermione, Hagrid, and the last one labeled Ginny Weasley.

Grabbing Ginny's first, he ripped open the box to reveal a journal like that of Tom Riddle's four years ago. With a crimson leather cover, there were golden letters on the front spelling out Harry Potter with a snitch directly above it. Opening the journal brought back a lot of emotions from his second year, making him wish that he was there as funny as that sounds. He would rather be anywhere than in his current predicament with Voldemort. Flipping through the pages, he noticed an emerald sparkling page fall out of the journal addressed to Harry himself.

Harry,

    I bought this at Diagon Alley while visiting Fred and George at their new store. Mum was reluctant to go, but I'm sure Ron has already told you the entire story. To cut it short, this is the exact kind of diary that Tom Riddle had, just with a different look. If you haven't noticed already, you have to tap the diary with your wand and say 'Catch the Golden Snitch!' Quite catchy, wouldn't ya say? I also have some huge sheets of paper that you can make a map kind of thing on, kind of like the Marauder's Map. I dunno why I got that, I guess I thought that we could keep the tradition going!

                        Love ya lots!

                         Ginny

After opening Ginny's present, Harry did not waste any time at all. Grasping Hagrid and Fred and George's presents next, he ripped them open, revealing a box of Hagrid's specialty cement brownies and a box of another weird invention by Fred and George. From the looks of the box, it did look like they were getting along very professionally.

The treats themselves were called 'Boggart Bites', so Harry had a pretty firm grasp on exactly what they did. The little treats were chocolates shaped puffs of smoke in an assortment of types of chocolates. From what the back of the box showed, the normal chocolate was your worst fear, the white chocolate was your favorite thing/person, and the dark chocolate brought back the worst fear in your life. There were also caramel stuffed ones that showed your love, and coconut stuffed ones that showed your worst enemy.

Looking at the candy like it was poison, Harry sat it aside. The chocolate was on the least of his mind because he really didn't want to bring back the darkness engulfing his mind, yet he would rather eat the chocolate than look at his O.W.L scores, so he promised himself he would try a few tomorrow morning.

The next package Harry grabbed for was Hermione's. He knew that it would be a book, but he held his breath just in case she decided to muse him. Sure enough, a leather clad book plopped itself upon Harry's bedspread just as Harry ripped the brown paper off of it. Snatching it off of his bed, he grabbed the book entitled 'N.E.W.T.S. - A Head Start' and opened it up, revealing a whole bunch of info needed to get the top grades. Trying to get a grin spread across his face, he put it on his bedside table and grabbed the letter that was underneath all of the wrappings from his presents.

Dearest Harry,

    I am still on my trip in Egypt. I thought that Ron must have had a great time here, so I must go myself. My parents get a free vacation every year on account of their job, so we picked the pyramids as our topic of adventure this year.

    I have gotten the worst sunburn ever! My sister thought it would be funny to hide my suntan lotion, so I decided to put it on her back, except I spelt loser on her back. I really do hope that she doesn't notice what I did!

    I really do have to make this a quick letter, so let me spill out my O.W.L. scores to you. I was actually very impressed with my scores, but Ron seemed quite jealous if you ask me. I received an 'Outstanding' rating in every single one of my classes, but I was so close to getting an 'E' in my Ancient Runes O.W.L. it wasn't funny. In the long run I felt I could have did much better, but I still aced them all and my parents were very proud of me.

    This book that I am sending you will help you A LOT in the long run of being an auror. I have been talking to Nymphadora via owl and she has given me a lot of tips on how to succeed. As much as I would love to be something else that needs more sense, she believes that this is the job for me.

    How I wish I could write some more, but the touring and everything in Egypt makes it impossible to write a novel-length letter, so until Diagon Alley!

                     Lots and lots of love,

                     Hermione

As much as Harry would hate to admit it, he felt that Hermione was right. If Harry really did want to be an auror, he would have to study hard. He knew Hermione could be anything she wanted, but he really did doubt his and Ron's chances at becoming an auror. Hearing what Hermione's grades were made him feel even worse.Harry was so close to throwing the letter out the window, but he took a few deep breaths and sat the letter aside while he picked up the package from the Advance Guard.

The package from the Advance Guard was not just one parcel, but four separate, small boxes in one huge, slender package, all labeled from Kingsley Shacklebolt, Alastor Moody, Nymphadora Tonks, and Remus Lupin.

Harry opened Kingsley's package first. Inside the slender box was a sheath looking case that you would see a gun in, except it was shorter and slimmer. Harry had seen wand sheath before, but never ones this nice that were cheap. The case itself was a midnight black with 'HP' carved on it in gold. Also with the sheath was a black belt that you wrapped under your robe that hooked the sheath to your body. Grinning sheepishly to himself, Harry put the sheath back into the box and slid it into his trunk.

Nymphadora's package was just as splendorous. Being the metamorphagus she was, she had sent a book and kit on disguising. The book itself showed you how to use everything in the kit and how it worked, but that wasn't the best part. Inside the case was a dozen different potions and recipes, including the Polyjuice Potion. Right after glancing at it, he knew it probably wasn't the most legal present, but nonetheless it was great.

Mad-Eye's present was a portrait shaped parcel, and just by feeling it he knew what it was. Ripping at the paper impatiently, he grinned at the picture. The picture he was looking at was the picture that he had been shown almost a year ago by Mad-Eye himself. The picture of the old Order of the Phoenix had many noticeable witches and wizards in it now, but none were as unmistakable as Lily and James Potter. Harry knew that this could possibly have been one of the last pictures of his parents, so he wiped all of the dust off of the glass and set it up right beside Dudley's old broken alarm clock.

Last and definitely not least was Remus's gift. The box in its entirety was very thick but small, causing befuddlement to engulf Harry. What could possibly be in the box? An engagement ring?! Cautiously opening up the gift, he unraveled something that caused much controversy with him last year.

Carved on top of the box was his father's nickname, Prongs. During his last Occlumency lesson the year before, Harry had thoughtlessly but his head inside of Severus Snape's pensieve, seeing the box that was in his possession in James handbag under the shade of the trees. Grasping the side of the box, he pushed the top up with his fingertips. What was revealed in the little box was nothing more than an old scratched golden snitch, its silver, thin wings wrapped around it like the fluttering ball was in hibernation. He remembered the little ball from the memories of his least favorite teacher, and felt his eyes start to swell up as he looked at it. His mean, ruthless father and his little show off toy, and this is what Remus wanted Harry to remember. Wiping under his glasses, Harry snatched up the box and opened his trunk, throwing the box in there with as much force as he could muster.

Him, Harry thought, while picking up his flustered bed, littered with wrapping paper. Harry had seen some horrible stuff in the pensieve, most noticeably his father's behavior. After looking into Snape's memories, he felt like he was alone in a very big world, no father, no mother. How could my father act that way?

Wiping his thoughts clean, Harry shot his hand forward, grasping onto the sole letter that could change his life forever. Harry couldn't cheat himself and say that he really had tried his hardest on his O.W.L's, because he knew he didn't try real hard on his History of Magic, Astronomy, or Divination exams. But then again, Harry thought, to be an auror I won't need those classes...

Harry slid his finger under the flap of the vanilla colored envelope, breaking the red Hogwarts crest with his fingernail as he forced the package to show him what he wanted - no, what he needed to see. Pulling up on the flap, the slip of parchment itself seemed to fall out on its own. Picking the parchment up with his left hand, Harry read what the twilight blue ink had to say.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL

of

WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY

Dear Mr. Potter,

    We are very pleased to inform you that the Ordinary Wizarding Level that you completed this past year has been successfully rated. Please note that these grades are not tentative, but are the final rating and can not be changed under any circumstances.

    Below are your ratings for every class that you took an O.W.L. for, including your percentage compared to everyone else in your year. We at Hogwarts are very excited for you and hope that your career pathway will work out for you!

Professor Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

ORDINARY WIZARDING LEVEL

RESULTS

Astronomy - - - Poor - (P)

Care of Magical Creatures - - - Outstanding - (O)

Charms - - - Outstanding - (O)

Defense Against the Dark Arts - - - Outstanding - (O)

Divination - - - Poor - (P)

Herbology - - - Exceeds Expectations - (E)

History of Magic - - - Acceptable - (A)

Potions - - - Outstanding - (O)

Transfiguration - - - Exceeds Expectations - (E)

Summary

15/24

Exceeds Expectations

Average -- 12.9/24

Acceptable

Harry sat stoned to his spot. Among all of the thinking of doing bad, Harry had actually did extremely well. An 'O' in Potions? How? Harry thought as he scanned that grade over and over again. He did try a lot on his Potions exam, and without Snape in the room his performance level, along with Neville Longbottom's, increased dramatically. However, that was not the only thing he was surprised about. In some odd way, Harry had gotten a poor rating in Divination. Harry had found that very weird, considering when he was doing everything he couldn't seem to get anything factual. The good thing was that Harry wouldn't need to take the class anymore, which meant more free time and less deaths.

Laying back on the bed, he looked to his left at the broken alarm clock. The numbers were barely visible, so all he could make out was that it was past eleven o'clock. Pulling his glasses off of his face, Harry sat them on the bedside table. Harry knew he had good enough grades to take all of the advanced classes he needed to, and just knowing that made him have the most peaceful sleep he had ever had for an entire year.

* * *

"BREAKFAST!!!"

Harry popped right from under his bedspread. Just the one word from his aunt every morning almost made him wet himself, so he always made sure he got up after her first warning call. His Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were getting up around six o'clock every morning to landscape their backyard, but they would not trust Harry with such a tedious job. The Dursley backyard was not the nicest, but it wasn't that bad either. Being one of the only fenced in yards, it had two trees on the south side and an apple tree pointing north. The greenhouse was half the size of the garage, so they wanted to expand it to a full greenhouse about the size of half of the house. The middle of the backyard was just a path of small rocks to a bench, and that was what they wanted to work on the most. Their next door neighbor, Old Man Gitternah, was a nice guy and had a wonderful back yard. So, for competition of course, his aunt had to make her yard the most glorious of all.

Harry wasn't a complete no help, though. His Uncle Vernon made sure that Harry got everything from the market a mile down the street and he wouldn't even let him ride Dudley's bike (got it in third grade and never rode it once), so he was forced to walk the long walk with forty to fifty pounds of soil and rocks. He didn't hate it, he just didn't find it fair that he was forced to do the dirty work. What his aunt and uncle didn't know, however, was that Harry took Herbology in school and got some pretty good marks, too. Sure, it wasn't exactly muggle plants that he dealt with, but he still learned how to pot and soil certain plants like Ferium Shrubs that were practically harmless.

Harry pulled on one of Dudley's old gym shirts from a few years ago. The family outcast was quite used to wearing secondhand shirts that went all of the way down to his knees, but it did get frustrating when he tripped over the leg of his baggy pants and Dudley's gang laughed at him. Dudley finally got back the guts to insult Harry, but it wasn't behind Harry to scare him by giving away his deadly secret to his friend Piers Polkiss. In fact, one time Piers almost found out that he was a wizard when he brought his wand with him while on a walk, but he quickly covered it up by saying it was part of the meter stick he bashed over his teachers head at his "correctional school", St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys.

When he wasn't lifting weights and getting stuff from the store for the backyard, Harry would walk down the alley between Wisteria Walk and Magnolia Crescent. The alley itself was the most special place to him, in famous and infamous ways. Harry and Dudley had been attacked in the exact place by dementors, but Harry fought them off with a patronus and was almost expelled in the process. What Harry mostly remembered the alley for was the eyes that glared down it three years prior. The two hazel eyes, glowing in the distance marked their first meeting -- a meeting of new life. If only he could see those eyes just one more time, one more time...

Harry spent no time goofing around in his room. He knew from experience what kind of temper his aunt could get in the morning, so he jumped onto the landing and rushed himself down the stairs. Making his way into the hall, he noticed that the house seemed oddly quiet. The only noise coming from between the walls was the subtle noise of the morning news. If his aunt had yelled at him from down the stairs, then why didn't she at least show some signs of life? Scratching his head in confusion, Harry looked around the ground floor for one of his relatives.

The bathroom door was open, as was the living room door, and no voices besides the weatherman were erupting around his house. He knew that if he heard something resembling a horse whinny, oink, or if someone happened to yell than he would find them in a heartbeat, but the noise still wouldn't come.

Pushing his way into the kitchen, Harry noticed a plate of bacon on the counter. There were two charred pieces left just for him! Excitedly, Harry rushed to the plate..... and threw the two pieces away. Sighing, he looked around the kitchen for some more food and found a banana. Taking off the peel, he was just about to shove the scrumptious fruit down his throat before he heard something backfire in the back yard.

Rushing his way into the dining room, Harry pulled the curtain from around the sliding glass doors and looked straight into a big cloud of smoke. Recognizing the yells of his Uncle Vernon, he knew that something must have backfired. Uncle Vernon was a plump, short man with one major temper. He had a gigantic mustache that was so thick that you couldn't even tell when he was talking or not.

From the look of the backyard, his cousin Dudley must have been trying to mow the back yard. When he sat on the riding lawn mower the machine sputtered and bent downwards, the blade digging into the soil. After backfiring, Dudley flew off of the bucking mower and hit his mother straight in the stomach.

Of course, Dudley's thick body smashed his small, horse resembling mother into a pancake. Not able to suppress his laughter, He went down to his knees, tears streaking down his eyes. Luckily nobody noticed what he was doing, or else he would have been confined into the cupboard under the stairs like when he was younger. It took both him and Uncle Vernon to lift Dudley off of the choking Petunia, and once they did she yelled out in the harshest voice he had ever heard.

"WHAT-DID-YOU-DO, HARRY?!"

Harry wasn't surprised that he was getting blamed for Ickle Duddykin's mistakes. Every single time that Dudley did something wrong, it was all quickly blamed on Harry and the 'M' word. Something like the current predicament always seemed to happen at least once a week, but this would mark the first time this summer.

"I had just went into the kitchen to get breakfast when I heard an explosion, honest," Harry replied in a low voice. His voice had gotten a lot lower during the summer. Quite suddenly one day while he was in the shower singing, his voice cracked an octave and he almost choked on the soap suds encircling him.

"You liar! What else could have made my Dudley pop off of the mower like that!" his Uncle Dursley jumped in. Harry could tell by his uncle's facial expressions that he was going to explode, so he kept his mouth shut for the time being.

"I-I s-saw Harry l-laughing at me when I f-fell..." Dudley replied, as he fake sobbed into his mother's shirt, flashing a toothy grin as he did so.

"Well, it wa-" Harry tried to say, but his uncle jumped on his case like a jackal out of hell.

"JUST GET AWAY, YOU FREAK! I'VE HAD IT UP TO HERE WITH YOUR KIND! IF YOU DON'T GET TO YOUR ROOM THIS INSTANT I'LL KICK YOU OUT-"

"No, we won't," his aunt added in briskly. He learned to like his aunt a little more each day knowing that she was finally cooling down. Harry had learned the school year before that the only reason he was staying alive was because of the blood that ran through his Aunt Petunia's veins. He wished he could thank her for it a dozen times, but the words never came out.

"Honey, what else are we supposed to do? If it wasn't for us than he would be dead right now," Vernon groaned like a little boy. He knew that his Vernon would rather have him dead, but he knew that somewhere in her heart, his Aunt Petunia loved him. Why else would she have kept him for so long under such risks?

"Yeah, and he wouldn't be if he left, either," Petunia replied very coolly.

"What do you mean? He's fourte-"

"Sixteen," Harry added in nicely.

"As I was saying," his uncle shot back, "he is old enough to live on his own!"

"Not with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named being around,"

Harry stood frozen like an icicle. How could his aunt, of all people, know what was going on in the wizarding world, let alone be afraid to say his name. Only wizards were afraid to say the Dark Lord's name...

"You... How do you know who Voldemort is?"

His Aunt cringed at the name as she began to speak. "I-that old wizard told me,"

Harry could tell by the look of fear on her face and her actions toward him saying Voldemort that she was lying. He shook his head at her knowingly and tried to speak, but his aunt beat him to the punch.

"I-erm, I have to begin lunch..." his Aunt quickly shot at Harry as she swept through the open glass doors.

Harry looked over at his uncle and cousin. They were both frozen in their spots, befuddled by Petunia's actions. Nobody could be as worried as Harry however, as he walked through the doors right after his aunt.

Pushing his way through the semi closed door, Harry rounded on his aunt. He knew she was hiding something from him since last year when she got the Howler. But then again, he wouldn't put his accusations beside his aunt. She meant well, to be honest, but just knowing that her sister was a wizard made Harry think that she was jealous. However true or untrue that was, Harry made sure to himself that he would eventually find out what was going on.

He was sure that not even his uncle knew what was going on with Aunt Petunia for some simple reasons. Firstly, the Dursleys considered magic in particular unorthodox. Anything that happened in the blink of an eye or was unexplainable had to do with magic, even if Harry was in the are at the time or not. Also, his Aunt Petunia had been quite secretive lately, hiding herself in her room for extended periods of time. Whenever someone tried to walk in on her or talk to her while she was in her room, she made excuses and some times would go off on the victim.

Deciding to ignore his aunt for the time being, Harry crept across the tile floor and into the hall. He heard some changing voices in the living room next to him, telling him that Dudley must have snuck in beside him while he was thinking in the dining room. How Dudley had gotten passed him, let alone through the sliding doors, was beyond him. Yes, Dudley had gotten a little of his chunk off during the school year, but he surely had gained some muscle in the mean time. Dudley yet again won the inter school boxing tournament. Vernon, who brought up the topic every second he could, always seemed to stick Harry and his scrawny size into the mix. Harry had gotten bigger, but it obviously wasn't even comparable to Dudley's leg.

Harry decided that it would be best for him to go up to his room and goof around with his birthday gifts, most notably the watch and candies. He figured he could delay reading the book from Hermione until that night. It was a very thick book, probably having somewhere over one thousand pages, and didn't look very fun to read. But then again, it had to be done. Practice makes perfect.

Weightlifting would also have to be put on hold. Dudley seemed to be spending a lot of time around the house, especially after he got arrested for possession of weed. Harry definitely didn't put it past his cousin -- he had caught him smoking cigarettes some time during the summer of his third year and was threatened not to tell Duddypopkin's parents. Harry decided that he would go wait for Dudley to have a "tea party" with his gang and sneak into the basement to lift.

Pulling himself like a sloth up the stairs, he couldn't help but act in a zombie-like state. Aunt Petunia was bugging the hell out of him. Her behavior was under par and she seemed not to care about anything anymore. When will I confront her? Harry wondered while, unbeknownst to himself, he had led himself straight into his bedroom.

Harry grasped the watch on top of the broken alarm. He had not dealt with filling in the other arms yet. From what the directions said that Mrs. Weasley had included, all Harry needed to do was write the names with his quill on the arms in the center of the watch and it would channel itself through all of the magical presences alive and deceased. So far all that were on the watch were the names Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ron Weasley. He didn't really know who else to put on the watch. Maybe if Sirius were alive I would.... wait a minute!

Harry felt an odd wind surround him; not physically, but mentally. Shooting his arm into his trunk, Harry began a thorough, messy search for his quill.

If Sirius really is alive...or is a ghost...then...

He felt his hand poke against a sharp point. Pulling his bloodied hand back, Harry shot his other and forward into the trunk and grasped the feather writing utensil. The ink for his quill was under the loose floorboard beside his bed, so Harry popped up onto his feet and stumbled across the floor. He was letting his excitement get the best of him. Taking a deep breath and pushing himself back up to his feet like he was doing push-ups, he walked over to the loose floorboard.

This watch will show me...whether he is really dead...the answer is here!

The adrenaline started pumping just as soon as it had stopped. The ink bottle was stained on the outside, staining Dudley's old shirt and his hand. Harry didn't care. In fact, he didn't care about anything at the moment except Sirius...

Jumping back onto his bed, Harry reached back for his quill. Wiping the dripping red blood from the point, he dipped it straight in and out of the silver ink in his bottle. He made sure that he carefully popped off the glass to the watch so that it would go back on once he was writing down the name and set it on the bedside stand. Withdrawing the quill after dipping it for a second time, he pulled his hand over to another hand and wrote the words 'Sirius Black' in the smallest print possible.

Second after second, and still no answer. The time itself was going by just as it had any other day, but to Harry it felt like the apocalypse was going to come in an hour. His impatience was getting the best of him as he glared at the sole hand, not moving and inch from the lost section of the watch.

Then, after ten seconds of waiting, the hand began spinning quickly. It was spinning so quickly that his hair was flying up on end, his scar and face being sprayed with silver ink as it seemed to fly right out of the watch. The scene from the watch was marvelous in a freakish way. A mini tornado made out of the silver ink was spinning on the center of the watch, hand forcing the wind up like a propeller. The wind storm did not last long, though, for the ink seemed to run out right after a minute of spinning.

The room was stained gray, with little botches filling the walls all around him. The dresser and the alarm clock were almost completely a glittering silver color, like that of the pensieve that sat in Albus Dumbledore's office. Everything in the room seemed to have a little spot of silver ink on it, that is, except for the hand that had the ink on it in the first place.

The words Sirius Black had disappeared as soon as they appeared, the completely clean watch hand pointing to 'lost'. Harry could not even muster himself to think anything except that it must be a flawed watch. No, it can't be, he thought to himself. Sirius is alive! I can feel him!

However, as much as he hated to face the facts, all clues pointed the opposite direction. Sirius Black was indeed not alive, was he? Not even spending another second to think, Harry put the now silver quill in his hand back into the ink bottle. He knew that maybe if he tried one more time that he would receive the answer that he wanted for so long. The answer that Sirius was indeed alive...

The quill was pulled right out of the ink bottle in a quick second and scratched against the hand that had caused his room to be in such disarray. No ink was rubbing on to the hand. No ink? He had just had the bottle refilled after their History of Magic O.W.L! Harry pulled the tip off of the hand and took a glance at it. There was no ink on it whatsoever, like it was rubbed completely clean by a whole bunch of house elves. Of course, Harry could not believe what had just happened and grabbed his ink bottle, glaring into the black hole on the top.

There was no ink in the bottle.

Harry began his trek back down the stairs. The ink all around his room wouldn't come off without a fight, so the only choice of action was to get a wet was cloth from downstairs. He was still in a state of shock from what had happened in his bedroom, but he couldn't say that he thought it would entirely work in the first place.

It had just reached noontime. Harry had isolated himself up in his room for about an hour after the events that took place, which he had realized from the quietness in the house.

They must be outside working, Harry thought as he walked into the hall area of the house. The television was shut off for once, meaning that Dudley had took his leave to meet his friends at the corner of Wisteria Walk. Arabella Figg, the old lady with all of the cats, lived on that street and knew what they were doing. She had told Aunt Petunia what they were doing, but everyone thought that she was an old bat. Her words were, of course, not heeded.

Little did they know that Arabella was just like ol' Harry -- she was a witch. Well, not exactly the witch that you are used to hearing about. Arabella was a Squib, or a non magical person that was learning magic. She didn't know much at all when it came to magic, but it still made Harry happy to know that someone else in Little Whinging knew that there was an alternate world out there.

Harry looked out the kitchen window. His Uncle Vernon was getting along great with the landscaping in the backyard, and he felt a little jolt of happiness for him. Happiness, Harry though, yeah right.

Looking at the backyard, Harry realized that his aunt was not out there. Had she gone to the market? No, she wouldn't have. The market was not open on Sundays, and they always went on Thursdays to get food, anyways. Or maybe...

Harry darted back into the hall and heard a click on the television. Dudley had yet again entered the home, plopping himself down in the living room right in front of the tube. Letting out a groan due to the fact that he would now not be able to lift for a little while longer, Harry shot like a rocket to the left and jumped the stairs, two by two, two by two, until he reached the shut door of his Aunt Petunia.

Knock!

No answer. The room seemed to dangerously quiet, like any second a dementor would come flying out of it to kiss him. He knew his aunt must be ignoring him, so he took another shot to show her he was not going away. He just had to know what was going on...

Knock! Knock!

Harry could hear some movement behind the closed door like his aunt was shuffling papers, but he could not be sure. The light under the door was losing strength as if shadows were running in front of it. The shadows under the door suddenly moved out of sight yet again, stillness ensuing. He knew that she was ignoring him now, like she was hiding something in her room in case he opened the door. Looking from the rug to the door, he knew that she wouldn't open the bedroom door. So, being as clueless about the current situation as he was, he couldn't just back off. Grasping the metal ball on the wood, he twisted it to the left, propping the hinged door to free fall to the left.

His aunt was in a complete wreck, her eyes red and stained with tears. The room was thrashed, everything thrown to the floor. However, it did look as if she tried to clean it up before Harry had walked in unannounced. His Aunt Petunia still did not glance from her bed. Her hair was frizzy and almost sticking up on end, matching her nightgown which was damp like she was standing in the eye of a hurricane. Harry could not help but feel sorry for his aunt, the woman that had caused him so much pain throughout the years. The woman that had taken him in and put a roof over his head...

As Harry plopped down unto the corner of his aunt and uncle's queen sized bed, Petunia's head shot up like it had been in a trance, her empty eyes staring coldly right into Harry's emerald green eyes. He could hear a whimper coming out of the side of her mouth as if she was trying to say something, but before he could try to talk she had opened her mouth like a mechanical puppet.

"What are you doing in my room?" his aunt asked simply. She didn't seem to be as angry as she did confused. Harry never tried to talk to his aunt and never even knew what the inside of their room looked like. Harry could see that she did not want him to leave by the tone of her voice, so he answered back calmly.

"I, erm, I wanted to know... well, what... you know?" Harry replied in a questioning tone. His aunt looked like she had just been hit up side the head by a ping pong paddle and thrown into a dump truck for dessert.

"What do I know?"

"Yeah..." Harry could hear the own pleas in his own voice, like he hadn't talked or been heard for the past fifteen years. He wanted answers, and he wanted them now.

"I know nothing of your kind, boy," his Aunt Petunia whispered, a livid look upon her face. "How am I supposed to know what you magical beings know? I'm normal!"

Harry's heart almost stopped beating. Normal? His kind wasn't normal? He could feel the anger rising in his veins, but he knew he couldn't let the pain get to him. If he wanted to get answers from his aunt then he would have to be calm, taking it step by step.

"Then what about the dementors? And Voldemort? How do you know about them?" Harry replied back, so quickly that he stumbled through the tiny phrase.

"Well, I did have a witch in my family, didn't I! She would always come home, acting like she was the queen of the world. Oh yes, her and her little tricks that she would show us when I grew up! All of her stories! And never, once, would they ask about my school year!" he could see the anger swelling in his aunt's throat, like he was digging too deep, too soon.

"I know you are lying. You know about our world, and I'll find out how!" Harry yelled at her. He did not know how the voice came out, but it did. He had tried to stay calm, but he couldn't ever stay that way when someone was insulting one of his parents.

"I think you should leave my room! Did you knock? NO! LEAVE! LEAVE! LEA-"

Harry didn't take that as a fire drill -- he darted out of his aunt and uncle's bedroom like a bat out of hell. The door seemed to blow shut right behind him, hiding the sobs that were coming from behind the door. Footsteps were slamming on the stairs to the right of him, and Harry knew exactly who they belonged to.

Heeding the noise quickly, Harry flew right into his bedroom and onto his bed, which was now too small for him. The slamming on the stairs died down, his Uncle Vernon making his way toward his room. He could tell by the yanking outside the door that she had locked herself inside her room, not wanting anymore unwelcome visitors.

Harry's back was prodding against something sharp under his blankets. The item was not exactly sharp enough to hurt him, but he could feel it poking roughly at his silver shirt. He took his time reaching his sliced hand under the blankets and grabbing the envelope that was pushing against him. He remembered receiving two envelopes on his birthday, but obviously must have forgot about one of them.

The envelope was stained silver (just like the rest of the room), so he could not tell from where it was addressed from. Cautiously running his finger against the edge of the flap, he couldn't seem to get the letter open. The ink had stained the envelope shut, covering it head to toe. Impatiently grabbing the topmost part of the envelope, Harry ripped it off and pulled out the slip of parchment, writing in emerald green ink.

Potter,

    I am very sorry to get a hold of you on shut a short notice. I have gotten some information from Albus Dumbledore himself to give to you o August the first. Please make sure that your muggle guardians see what is written to you, for it is of upmost importancy.

    Mr. Draco Malfoy is having problems right now and must be put under your Aunt Petunia's care. I can not tell you why, but it seems pretty obvious, especially if you can get an 'O' in my class.

    Potter, you will need to stay at your muggle home with Mr. Malfoy until August the twenty-ninth, when you both will be put under the care of Mr. Arthur Weasley to go shopping at Diagon Alley. Please, I am warning you not to get out of each others sights. Danger has seemed to make its way toward the Minister, and I am afraid it will only be a matter of time before he will strike.

    Mr. Malfoy will be arriving at your house at two o'clock sharp on August the first. I, along with Remus Lupin, will be accompanying young Malfoy to your muggle home. If I hear of you causing you Mr. Malfoy any problems whatsoever, leave it to me to keep you out of Advanced Potions.

                    With regret,

                     Severus Snape

Harry was utterly shocked by the news of 'Young Mr. Malfoy' staying at his home. There was no way in hell that his aunt and uncle would let Draco stay at the house, unless force was taken. Harry knew that Lucius Malfoy, Draco's father, was in Azkaban, but what of his mother? He had seen her before at Platform 9 3/4. She actually did seem like a nice lady, so why couldn't she take care of the wretch?

If I hear of you causing trouble... Harry could feel his heart boil with anger. Snape could not kick him out of class for doing nothing wrong on school premises. He had achieved the proper grade for the advanced class and the grades were official, so how coul-

Ding Dong