A Feather of Time

Chapter 2

A Shadow of the Past

~*Harry*~

Harry was in a chamber...he recognized it. It was a large, round room with a huge ceiling, causing every thing to echo loudly around the room, including small things like the spitting of the fire, or Harry's breathing. Harry tried to stifle his breathing with his fist, and stepped a bit further into the room. There was an armchair in front of a dark, stone fireplace, in which a fire was burning on the hearth. A snake was curled on the floor, and a bald man was sitting near the fire, sweat glistening on his forehead. "Comfortable Wormtail?" asked a high-pitched voice that caused shivers to go up and down Harry's spine. The bald man nodded, though it was obvious that he was in great discomfort. The man in the armchair laughed, a mirthless laugh that filled the air in the stifling room. The snake awoke, and began to slither toward Harry's hiding place. Harry stiffened. It would see him! Then...it paused. The voice had begun to speak again. "Just one more murder, Wormtail. Then, the Ministry itself will be destroyed, and our path to Harry Potter will be clear. It has already begun, has it not, Peter? Macnair should be doing a good job in his department...he does keep me up to date with suspicious acts of Ministry members. Very useful man, don't you agree?" The bald man shivered, and then his eyes fell on Harry.

He pointed his finger at Harry, and the snake began slithering toward him. The snake curled itself around Harry's feet, hissing softly. Then, the voice spoke again. "He is here? What do you mean, Nagini?" It was a hissing, but Harry understood it. The man was speaking Parseltongue, Harry realized. The armchair slowly began to turn around. In the chair was something that made Harry unleash a scream that shattered the silence like an axe breaking wood...

"Harry! Harry! Ron, he's waking up! Come quick!" cried a voice painfully close to Harry's ear. Harry felt as though he were drowning in water, and flailed his arms, trying to get out. He felt his arms being pinned to his sides by someone strong, and then heard another voice.

"Harry? Can you hear me?" It was a deep, familiar voice, right above him. The voice of the man that was holding him down. A voice Harry remembered well. He opened his eyes. He was lying on a wood floor, Sirius kneeling over him, looking very pale, holding his arms down. Ron and Hermione were hovering over Sirius's shoulder, looking desperately worried.

Harry's head was burning with pain, and he squeezed his eyes shut, holding is head. His scar was on fire, and it felt as though his head was slowly being rolled over by a six-ton steamroller. At last, the pain began to subside, and he was able to open his watering eyes.

"Sirius!" exclaimed Harry, attempting to sit up, but causing himself to sway dizzily. Sirius squashed this attempt by pushing him back down, but smiled all the same. Harry gave up fighting him, and looked around at his surroundings. To his surprise, he was in the Weasleys' living room.

The living room had many comfy pouffes and armchairs scattered around near the fireplace, as well as five large couches that looked as though they had seen too many summers. There were jumbled old books stacked in total disarray on the shelves, which were floating in midair near one of the walls. On the fireplace, moving pictures of all the Wisely children floated at various heights, enchanted to switch places occasionally. Harry smiled. He remembered this house well.

"Sirius, is everyone here?"

Sirius nodded, looking very happy. In fact, Sirius looked much better than when Harry had seen him last. His hair was much shorter now, making him look more like the handsome man he had once been. His eyes were twinkling at Harry, and Harry could detect some of Sirius's old mischief behind them. The haunted look was still there, but it was hidden behind many layers of newfound joy. Sirius then let him go, standing up and dusting his knees off.

Harry got onto his feet, and reached up to push his glasses up to his eyes. To his shock, his hands passed through air. He frantically felt his face, hoping that he hadn't lost them, when he realized what had happened. Of course, he thought to himself. Fudge fixed that. I can see without glasses now, can't I? The idea was disconcerting to say the least, but all of these thoughts were pushed out of his head as he turned to look at his two best friends.

Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley were standing next to each other, both grinning from ear to ear. Hermione had loads of bushy brown hair, and was almost two heads shorter than Ron now. Ron had definitely grown taller over the summer, and now towered over Harry as well. His straight, red Weasley hair was longer now, and he had many split ends around the edges. He looked rather pale, and Hermione was flushed as she stood watching him. He walked over to them, allowing himself a quick grin.

"What happened?" he asked in a low voice. Hermione's grin dropped instantly. She cast a glance at Ron, who shook his head slightly. Her faltering smile reappeared, and she steered him into the kitchen, which was full to the brim of people.

Harry had been in the Weasley's kitchen a few times before, but since then they had added more amazing gadgets. The clock with all the faces of the Weasley's was still there, but to Harry's surprise, it now had two other faces on it. Harry and Hermione were now smiling at him from the "BURROW" position on the clock. Harry grinned back at himself, and then turned to look at the occupants of the small room.

At the stove, Mrs. Weasley was cooking up a storm, causing things to occasionally spark as she prodded them with her wand. Mrs. Figg was next to her, muttering things while chopping potatoes. Both of them looked very serious, as though planning a funeral rather than making soup. Charlie, Bill, Fred, George, and Mr. Weasley were sitting around a table, listening intently to Lupin, whose face was lined with worry. A wizard Harry had never seen before was pacing in front of the fireplace, talking in low, hurried tones to Mr. Diggory, whose head was floating in the fireplace.

As soon as Harry walked into the room, it fell silent, everyone staring at him. Then, there was a small shriek from the corner. "Harry!" Harry didn't have time to turn his head before someone considerably smaller slammed into him, knocking the wind out of him. He stumbled over the carpet, falling backwards onto Hermione, who then reached out instinctively and grabbed Ron's arm. All four of them fell into a heap on the floor, which broke the tension in the kitchen. Every single person, including Mr. Diggory, was laughing. Fred had slipped of his stool, and was now lying on the floor clutching his stomach in mirth.

Harry slowly sat up, attempting not to squish Hermione in the process. He looked down to see who his attacker had been, and found himself gazing into a pair of beautiful, brown eyes. Pools of mahogany, they surveyed him intently, fire blazing through them. He recognized those eyes.

"Ginny."

She stood, smoothing her dress, blushing furiously. Her red hair was tussled, and messy curls framed her pale, freckled face. "Harry," she said breathlessly. "I'm so sorry...I just...we all thought you had gone forever...I couldn't bear the thought of that, so when you walked in, I just sort of..." She trailed off, looking hopefully at him.

"That's okay, Ginny. You just surprised me, that's all."

"Mrph!" came a voice from under Harry. Harry jumped up off Hermione, turning to see who had made the noise. His face broke into a smile as he surveyed the scene in front of him. Hermione was giggling crazily, trying to stifle it with her hand. She was lying on top of Ron, who was being smothered by her hair. Still giggling, Hermione rolled off Ron, and he sat up, spluttering.

"Must you have so much hair?" he asked irritably, glaring at her. Hermione stopped giggling.

"Why, don't you like it?" asked Hermione, looking hurt. Ron stared at her.

"Wh-what?" he spluttered. "I never said I didn't---I mean to say that...well it's just that..."

Ginny grinned and poked Harry slightly with her elbow. They met each others eyes, and Harry had such an urge to burst out laughing that he had to break eye contact and duck down to avoid any of their stares. Instead, he turned to the kitchen, where everyone was now beaming at him. He looked at Lupin, who was the closest to him.

"Professor," he began, hoping that Lupin had answers for him.

"I'm not your professor anymore, Harry," Lupin reminded Harry, looking slightly embarrassed.

"Right," said Harry. "Well, what exactly happened to me? All I remember is seeing Fudge Disapparate, and then telling everyone we should Floo straight here. But after that..."He trailed off, gazing fixedly at Lupin.

Lupin sighed, looking suddenly ten years older. Mrs. Figg walked over and put a hand on his shoulder. He looked up at her, and she nodded. This seemed to give him strength, and he took a deep breath, turning back to Harry.

"As soon as you said you wanted to Floo, you began to have a fit," said Lupin, trying to avoid Harry's eyes. "You collapsed onto the floor, writhing in pain and clutching your scar. It was...it was one of the spookiest things I've seen in my life." He gulped. "I've seen you react to a Dementor, but that was nothing compared to what you did. When Sirius attempted to help you, you hit him in the jaw, dislocating it."

Harry whipped around, staring at Sirius. Sirius shook his head, watching Lupin. Harry turned back around, listening once more. "Your eyes were open, they were rolling, and then your back arched. At last, you were still, and we Flooed you to the Weasleys. That's when it all started.

"We dragged you out of the fireplace, met by the screams of all the people you see present. You were unconscious, and they were reacting to the simple fact that you were knocked out, and appeared to be dead. Then, you sat up straight, your eyes in the back of your head. You pointed right at Hermione, and said..." Lupin looked quickly at Hermione, then back at the floor. "You said...you said, 'Just one more murder...', and then collapsed. A while later, you gave an earsplitting scream that caused more than one person to faint with shock. And then, you woke up."

A deafening blanket of silence descended over the room, the way that a city is silent after a hurricane. No one stirred, and nothing was heard but for the sound of breathing and the crackling of the fire. At last, Harry spoke. "Where is Dumbledore?" To his surprise, his voice was calm, steady, and even a bit indifferent. Sirius pointed up at the ceiling.

"He should be down any moment," said Mr. Weasley, looking closely at Harry. Harry nodded absent-mindedly, but was already making for the stairs. He began to climb the familiar, wooden steps, hearing the clunk of his shoes echo in the well of silence. He reached the second floor landing, where Percy's door was ajar. Peeking inside, he saw Percy asleep on his work, dark circles under his eyes. Not wanting to disturb his rest, Harry continued more quietly up onto the third floor.

On the third floor was where Fred and George's bedroom was, as well as the small guest apartment. Harry knocked once on the door of the apartment, and it swung silently open. He stepped inside, and felt his mouth drop open.

The room was carpeted in a rich, velvety, scarlet rug, and its walls were a dark, blood red. There was a large, four-poster bed in the middle, which was purely white, a sharp contrast to the black trunk in front of it. Book covered every inch of the room, scattered around on the floor, the bed, and stacked on the shelves and mahogany desk. At the enormous window on Harry's left was the largest telescope Harry had ever seen. It consisted of many mirrors, dials, switches, swinging objects, and lenses, as well as a large map of the solar system next to it. And in front of that telescope, beaming at him, was Albus Dumbledore.

"Professor Dumbledore," said Harry, smiling at him. You couldn't help but feel safe and happy when Dumbledore was around. He always gave the impression of a bumblebee, constantly buzzing around and helping, yet in no hurry to get anywhere. Dumbledore beckoned him over to the telescope.

"I have just been observing something very important," he said softly, his face now serious. "Something that deeply concerns you, Harry."

Harry felt as though he were being X-rayed, as Dumbledore's crystal blue eyes swept over him. What did he mean, concerned Harry? Nothing concerned Harry now, at least nothing but Hogwarts...Harry's stomach lurched. What if Voldemort had captured Hogwarts, now that Dumbledore was away from it? But then he reminded himself that that was impossible, because he had just seen Voldemort in the circular room that he knew was nowhere inside Hogwarts grounds. But did he really know that to be true?

"Yes, Professor?" asked Harry, feeling his voice shake slightly. Dumbledore's forehead creased slightly, something Harry had only seen once before, and that had been in a grave situation indeed. He gestured towards the telescope, beckoning Harry to look through it. Harry bent down and opened his eyes, afraid of what he might see.

To his surprise, it was somewhere he knew very well. He stood up in shock, and met Dumbledore's gaze. "Why are you showing me this?" he asked, confused. "There's nothing going on there."

"Are you entirely sure of that, Harry?" asked Dumbledore, turning a stern stare onto Harry. "Did you truly look?" Harry shook his head, not entirely sure what Dumbledore meant. He looked back into the telescope.

In front of his eyes was Privet Drive. It seemed to be the same as when Harry had left it, the light of the sun just reaching the pruned hedges. Usually around this time, lights were going on, and the milkmen were out delivering their milk. However, hard as Harry looked, there were no lights, no newspaper boys, no milkmen, and no movement on the street at all. Instead, there was an eerie feeling about it, almost as though no one was there.

Then, to Harry's relief, he saw a cat cross the front yard of Mrs. Figg's house. A sudden movement in the hedge caught his eye. His vision swiveled, fixing on a shape in the bush. Dismissing it as nothing, Harry went back to observing Mr. Boots. Then, the movement in the bush came again. There was bright green flash of light, obscuring everything on the street, and blinding Harry.

Harry stumbled backwards, away from the telescope. He felt himself hit the ground, and blinked for a few moments before he could see. Dumbledore was standing over him, looking concerned. Harry got up shakily, and went back towards the telescope.

"Harry..." began Dumbledore. Harry shook his head, and put his eye back onto the lens. He knew that it had been rude to cut off the headmaster, but he had to know...had to find out...

He was now gazing at Privet Drive, looking exactly the same, but for one difference. There was now something lying in Mrs. Figg's garden. Harry squinted, and then jumped away from the telescope, realizing at once what it was. He turned to Dumbledore, shaking.

"What does this mean, Professor?" he asked. Dumbledore looked puzzled.

"What did you see, Harry?"

Harry shook his head. Right then, he couldn't formulate the sentences that could describe what he had seen. Dumbledore nodded as though he understood, and leaned forward, gazing into the telescope. He jumped slightly, and then turned to look seriously at Harry.

"I see." Dumbledore's eyes were troubled, and his forehead was creased in thought. His eyes sparked with a cold fire, and he seemed to be on the brink of movement.

"What does it mean?" asked Harry again, the image of the cat still imprinted on the back of his eyes.

"Before I tell you what events have occurred in the past few hours, I would like you to sit down," said Dumbledore. His eyes were certainly not glittering now, and his face held no trace of amusement. Harry sank onto the bed, wondering what kind of horrible news would be awaiting him, especially if Dumbledore had asked him to sit down.

Dumbledore came to stand in front of him, surveying him over his half-moon glasses. Harry fidgeted slightly, and had the sudden urge to move away from his cold stare. Dumbledore sighed, and sat down in an armchair near the bed. He folded his hands in front of him, and looked at the floor. Harry was surprised to see that he looked oddly...sad.

"Professor?" asked Harry, after a few minutes had passed in this fashion. Harry knew that Dumbledore didn't mean to do so, but that sometimes he got lost in his own thoughts, and forgot completely about reality. Dumbledore jumped, and then shook himself.

"Forgive me, Harry," said Dumbledore. "It came as such a shock to us when we found out." He glanced at Harry, that same sadness filling his eyes. "This might come as a bit of a shock to you as well."

Harry waited. All the people he cared about were in this house right now. Harry's stomach lurched. That wasn't true! What about Hagrid, and the other teachers, and all of his other friends...His thoughts trailed off as Dumbledore began to speak again.

"Harry," Dumbledore said quietly. "It's about your aunt."