Harry Potter and the Seer's Stones

Chapter 3

Less than comfortable

As soon as they were out of Privet Drive, Harry found himself surrounded by the other eight people. These were his guards. They were to stop Voldemort (or anyone else) from harming Harry, on Dumbledore's orders.

"Come on, Remus. They don't have to surround me like that. Dumbledore might as well have someone underground, and one flying over me," Harry sighed. Lupin laughed but didn't answer.

"How're we going? Where are we going?" Harry asked, ignoring how Lupin hadn't even answered him.

"Headquarters. You're going to take a Portkey in that park with me. The others will Apparate," Tonks said smiling. "I don't fancy my hair like this-"Tonks was a Metamorphmagus and that meant that she could change her appearance at will.

"Don't you even think about it. There might be Muggles watching," said a gruff voice near Harry's left. He turned to look at the speaker and there stood Alastor Moody, limping on his wooden leg. His normal eye was studying the neighborhood carefully while his magical electric-blue eye rolled around wildly in its socket. A large chunk of Moody's nose looked like it had been bitten off. His overall appearance was disturbing. Harry didn't blame his uncle for being scared of him but Moody's personality was usually nothing to be scared of. Usually. Sometimes, his strange paranoid self would show.

"So, has anyone told you who the new Minister might be?" Lupin said.

"No, who is it?"

"It's-" Tonks started.

"Not here, Tonks. Ron will tell you," Lupin interrupted. "Now, both of you touch that swing on my count." Harry and Tonks both held a chain on the swing, ready for Remus' countdown.

"One, two, three!" And there was a tug behind Harry's navel. His feet lost contact with the ground for a second before they regained contact. A deep clunk sound sounded in his head and he felt his stomach jump as if he missed a step going down. Then, a loud crash filled Harry's ears as he opened his eyes. Tonks had landed on top of Pig's cage and then toppled off it and crashed down on to the floor by Harry's feet.

"Uh, OW! Sorry Ron- and Ron's owl," Tonks said, taking Harry's hand and climbing off the floor. Ron lay on his stomach right under where Tonks had landed.

"S'ok!" Ron's muffled voice was almost painful. Thundering footsteps got louder and louder as someone got closer. Hermione's bushy head popped into the kitchen. A second later, her arms were wrapped tightly around Harry's neck, jumping up and down. Harry sank under the weight. Hermione soon let go, smiling widely.

"I missed you so much. I tried to send you as much as I could but my parents and I went to Russia, for a holiday. Anyway, how are you? Have the Dursleys been horrid-"

"Hermione, breathe." Ron said. He had finally stood up and was rubbing his nose. "So glad you're here in one piece, mate. I thought you would've beaten yourself up over-OW!" Ron's hand flew from his nose to his foot, which Hermione had just so obviously stepped on.

"um- beaten yourself up over - um- N.E.W.T.s and your O.W.L.s grades. Right, Ron?" Hermione finished. Ron seemed to get the message and nodded. The summer seemed to have made Ron taller by a few inches but his long nose, red "Weasley" hair and big feet were still the same. Hermione's bushy brown hair and light brown eyes had not changed at all, though.

The kitchen door swung open again revealing the entire Weasley family. After almost a month with the Dursleys this was the most welcoming sight Harry could have asked for. Mrs. Weasley hugged Harry tightly mumbling concerned talk into his ear. She finally pulled him off by the shoulder and looked over him for a minute before-

"Merlin's beard. Harry! Have you eaten at all? Look at you- a toothpick. Of course, what could I expect- that terrible family of yours-oh, I'm sorry, dear. No offence-"

"None taken."

"-but they're absolutely horrific. I've half a mind to send her a Howler, your aunt-"

"It's alright, Mrs. Weasley, I'm not starved or anything."

"Molly, give us a chance," Mr. Weasley said, shaking Harry's hand. "Hello, Harry."

"Hi," Harry replied smiling.

"I was wondering: Your aunt didn't happen to give you a muggle refrigerakor, or an oven or- or maybe, a rubber duck has she?" Mr. Weasley smiled hopefully.

"No, sorry, Mr. Weasley. I don't think my aunt thought a rubber duck would be necessary, coming here. But- I might have a pen. You know: what they use to write." Mr. Weasley gave a small noise between a laugh and an intake of the breath, as Harry searched his pockets for a pen.

"Hey, Harry!" Fred said.

"Good to see ya!" his twin said, grinning.

"How are you? How's, erm, business?" Harry cheeks burned from the smile that he had worn since he had arrived.

"Still booming. Thanks to you, of course," Fred whispered, looking at his mother nervously. At the end of his forth year, Harry gave Fred and George a considerable amount of money. They used this money, to their mother's dismay, to buy a shop in Diagon Alley and open a joke shop.

Suddenly, a sound of thundering feet followed by a calm thudding grew louder. Ginny and, to Harry annoyance, Percy, came into the kitchen.

"Harry!" Ginny said.

"Hi,"

"Helli," Ginny replied with a strange word between a "hello" and a "hi". A deep scarlet blush crept up her cheeks.

"I meant- hello." Harry heard Fred snicker.

"Yeah..."

Percy stood in front of Harry, his hand outstretched, acting like the past year hadn't happened. Harry stared at his hand, confused. No-one had said anything about Percy being there. More importantly: Why hadn't anyone said anything? Harry's ears were pounding with fury. Percy sighed and lifted his hand higher impatiently.

"You want me to shake you hand? Aren't you scared? I mean, I am disturbed- mentally unstable-right? I might get-what was that word that you used again-" Harry paused, "oh yeah, violent." Harry said the last word slowly, savoring the affect they had on the room. Most of the Weasleys were staring at Percy accusingly while others were looking at their feet. Percy sniffed uncomfortably.

"Yes, well, that- that was a long time ago-"

"As I recall, it was just a few months-"

"I apologize for my behavior-"

"Really?" Harry said crossing his arms over his chest, unconcerned by what Percy had to say.

"You were right. I realize that now-"

"Took you long enough."

They stared at each other for a second. Percy opened his mouth but closed it again, helpless for words. Harry shook his head but took Percy's hand. Although Percy's apology was short and plain, it was satisfying.

"Funny he forgave you. I wouldn't have done it if mum hadn't paid us for it." George shot at Percy, a disgusted grimace on his face. Percy ignored him, turned on his heel, and climbed back upstairs.

"Stupid git." Harry heard Ginny whisper watching her brother's feet disappear up the stairs.

There was a silence for a few seconds before Mrs. Weasley called, "Lunch's ready."

Everyone followed Mrs. Weasley into the dining room. They passed a huge portrait on the way. The entire Weasley family, Hermione, Harry and Tonks all shushed each other as they tiptoed past Mrs. Black's- Sirius's mother- picture, which was covered with a dark curtain. And just when everyone was so close to their meal, just when George and Ginny had stepped into the kitchen, Tonks tripped over one of Fred and George's fake wands. A loud THUD! dragged along a parade of noise. Harry clapped his hands over his ears, wincing as Mrs. Black's yells of "Scum, mudbloods, leave this home. Filthy traitors..." streaked the hall. And then the curtains flew off her portrait, revealing the most disturbing picture Harry had ever seen: an old drooling woman with rolling eyes. Mrs. Weasley ran towards it, her arms outstretched and ready to pull the curtains shut.

"Tonks, a little help please," she said, her voice strained and her arms working hard. Tonks, who had just got off the floor ran towards Mrs. Weasley and helped her. Harry heard Tonks swear softly but her words were merely mumbling under Mrs. Black's loud voice.

"You!" she barked at Harry, her eyes popping out. "You killed him- my worthless son. I heard, I know, he's dead.'

Harry froze. After all those nights of lying awake in bed trying to convince himself that he wasn't to blame for his godfather's death, after all the headaches and nightmares it took for him to forgive himself, three words broke away all his confidence- all his strength. All of it was torn down by a force so evil, so terrible yet so familiar. This force itself was the same one- Mrs. Black's voice was the very same voice that had pounded in his head just a few hours ago. He stood absolutely still. His feet seemed to be stuck to the floor. With a loud groan, Tonks and Mrs. Weasley had shut the curtains over the picture. Now, everyone was standing in the doorway, looking up at the portrait that had just said the very thing that everyone was trying to deny and, in a way, believe did not happen. But, Harry thought, is that what everyone thinks? I killed Sirius. Does everyone think I did? Do they all know who I am; a murderer?

If it was silence that hung over the house when Harry and Percy finally talked, this was death. The group moved slowly and quietly to the dining room. This silence wasn't to keep Mrs. Black's and the other portraits from waking up. It was a tense and nervous mood that everyone had adopted to keep what was on their minds off their tongues.

Everyone settled around the table, taking nervous glances at each other and once in a while, worried eyes would fall to meet Harry's.

"Erm, pass the potatoes, Ron," said George in an attempt to break the silence. And that started the nervous, tense soft chatter going around the table. Everyone loaded their plates, but Harry, still numb with disbelief, just stared at his empty plate. Hermione took his plate and filled it with all his favourites. When he didn't respond, she placed a caring hand on his shoulder, making him look up at her.

"Eat. You can't starve yourself," she said, grinning. Harry quickly plastered on a fake smile. Hermione patted him comfortingly and sat back at her seat at the end of the table. The meal passed slowly as Harry pushed the food around his plate, making circles and lines absentmindedly. Apparently, Ginny noticed because she tapped Harry on the shoulder and pointed at his food. Harry nodded, forcing a lamp chop into his mouth. Soon, dessert made its way to the table. Harry held in a sigh. The food in front of him which he usually loved was now making him sick.

"Excuse me," Harry said. He stood up, clutching his stomach. Every bite of food that he had just eaten was threatening to come back out of his mouth.

"But, Harry dear, you haven't eaten anything," Mrs. Weasley worried.

"I-I know but I'm just, a bit, um, tired," Harry said, "so, I'm going to sleep."

"Oh, well, alright, I guess if you're tired..." Mrs. Weasley looked hurt that Harry wouldn't eat her cakes and pastries.

Harry walked up the stairs slowly because he was worried he might vomit all over the new rug covering the stairs. The room that used to belong to Sirius was upstairs. He thought about walking to his room but hesitated and continued to climb the stairs.

When he reached the top of the stairs, he was torn again between two voice: Open the door-Don't- Come on- No, just go down stairs. Before he knew it, Harry was twisting the doorknob to Sirius' room and walking in. This room, it seemed, was the only one that was left untouched.

He didn't know how long he had been there. It could have been minutes or hours but time was not a problem. Right now, very few things mattered. When he first thought of coming to this room, Harry expected himself to be flooded with memories. He expected himself to break down and cry at first glance of his godfather's room. But he didn't. He simply couldn't. His mind was empty of thought and his eyes were moving from one end of the room to the other. Over and over again. The only way to describe the time he spent in that room was quiet. He wanted something to fall. He wanted to hear a sound to prove to him that he was still alive. That he hadn't really died when Sirius fell through the veil. He prayed for anything to touch him just to know that he could feel. He begged silently for a bird to fly by the window or for the rich smell of hot leftovers to drift upstairs from the kitchen. Harry needed it. He needed to get his senses to live again and wake him up. And then just when he thought that he was asking for the impossible, a gentle tap on his shoulder told him that maybe a moment ago, someone might have been listening to his thoughts.

"You ok?" said a voice behind him. Harry cleared his throat.

"Yes, I'm great," he turned around to face Ginny. "I was just wondering if you redecorated the third floor too," he lied, flashing a brilliant smile at Ginny. She smiled faintly but didn't say anything for a while. Harry didn't like the tense silence.

"But, the rest of the house is great. How did you manage to clean it up?"

"Well, we didn't do much, really. Mum did most of the work," Ginny said, relaxing. "Did you see Ron and your room yet?" she asked.

"No, not yet. Why?"

"It's changed a lot. Ron stuck up more Chud-"

"Chudley Canons posters? Yes, I thought he would," Harry finished for her.

"Come on. Let's go downstairs."

Harry gladly ripped himself away from the room, and followed Ginny downstairs to his room. She opened the door and stepped inside. The voices of Hermione, Ron, Fred and George were hushed and secretive. The moment Harry stepped into the room, the mood and the conversation changed.

"...and, as I was telling you, my parents bought a new goldfish-"

"...and the Canons in the last minute," Hermione and Ron were telling each other fake stories to cover up for what they had really been saying. So were Fred and George.

"You can cut it out now. I know you've been talking about me. Frankly, I couldn't care less. So you guys can go on. I'll leave, if you want, so you get that special buzz for doing it behind my back," Harry turned to the door.

"No Harry, stop. We won't talk about you, alright?" Hermione said. Harry looked at her for a minute before he realized that she was crying. Her eyes were swollen and red, and tears of pure sadness were spilling down her face. Despite the fact that she had tried to dry her eyes, her fear, anger, and pain seemed to be dripping for the glances she gave Harry.

"'Mione, you're crying. Why are you crying? What happened?"