Harry Potter and the Heart of Darkness

Chapter Two: Back to the Burrow

At 11:45 the next day, Harry seated himself on the steps in the hall, resting his feet on his trunk, and holding his Firebolt in his lap. He had been nervous and jumpy the instant he'd woken up, but had preoccupied himself during most of the morning by packing his trunk, and making sure he'd cleaned out all the mess beneath his special loose floorboard. Now however, there was nothing better to do than to sit quietly and wait. Even this became a difficult task, especially with Uncle Vernon cheerfully saying things like "Eleven-forty-five already? My how the time has flown!" and "There Dudley, why don't you move your Play station and TV into the newly empty room!" very loudly so Harry would hear.

Hedwig, who seemed to sense that something important was going on, peered out of her cage at him and sat very still. Harry was oblivious to her as he stared at the clock. Ten minutes to go... nine...he traced the glittering gold "Firebolt" logo with his fingers. Seven... what if the Weasleys didn't manage to make it by noon? Harry wondered if the clock was speeding up on purpose. Five... and Four... .the second hand made another sweeping circle to make that three. The Weasleys still weren't here. An awful sick feeling began to rise in the pit of Harry's stomach. What if they tried the fireplace again? Uncle Vernon had it so well boarded up that they'd only just get stuck again and... only a minute to go. Harry fidgeted with his Firebolt handle and stared at the second hand creeping it's way to the twelve. The first chime, signalling that it was now twelve noon was punctuated by a horrified scream from the living room.

Pandemonium immediately broke loose. Hedwig screeched loudly, set off by what Harry now realized was Aunt Petunia having a fit. Uncle Vernon was shouting something incoherent to Harry's ears, as he tried to be heard above the rest of the din. Dudley shot by him and up the stairs, moving faster than Harry had ever seen him go. Now curious, he raced into the living room, expecting to find more boggarts or worse. What he found instead was Ron and Mr. Weasley standing square in the middle of the room, both of whom were holding onto what seemed to be a very soggy, very old and very dirty paper cup. Ron it seemed, was trying to suppress laughter.

"HELLO HARRY!" the red-headed boy yelled as loud as he could, barely audible above Aunt Petunia, Hedwig and Uncle Vernon. "GOOD TO SEE YOU! GET YOUR THINGS, WE HAVE A PORTKEY!"

Harry understood, and he grinned at Ron, motioning him out to the hall to help him carry the trunk. At the sight of Ron and Harry, the snowy owl ceased her screaming, allowing the two boys to talk at a more normal volume.

"I wish I could have seen the Dursley's faces when you appeared out of nowhere in the middle of the living room!" Harry glanced at Ron, who was wearing a grin to match his own. "But I'll bet Aunt Petunia's more upset about the dirtiness of your paper cup than about the magic."

"Come on, let's hurry up with this stuff!" Ron said in reply as he hefted one side of the trunk in one hand, and grabbed the top of Hedwig's cage in the other. "Wait until we get back home, there's so much to talk about!"

The two hurried back into the living room, and Ron handed over Hedwig and the Firebolt to Mr. Weasley so that they would each have a free hand to touch the Portkey with.

"SEE YOU NEXT YEAR!" Harry hollered over his shoulder. Even as he said it, he could feel the now-familiar pulling sensation around his midsection and the squabbles of the Dursleys seemed to be getting further and further away. He doubted they'd actually heard him, much less cared.

Seconds later, Harry's vision cleared, his hearing came sharply back into full volume, and the sensation of motion stopped so abruptly that he was forced to take a step forward in order not to overbalance. The Portkey had apparently done it's job, because Harry, Ron and Mr. Weasley were standing just outside of The Burrow. A few rather miffed-looking chickens were still fluttering or scrambling out of their way. Looking up at the Weasleys dilapidated house, Harry didn't even try to keep the relief out of his voice as he turned to Ron's dad and said "Thanks Sir.", meaning it from the very bottom of his heart.

"Least we could do Harry," Mr. Weasley smiled, handing him back Hedwig and the Firebolt, then crumpling up the paper cup Portkey and pocketing it. "Don't want this lying around though." He said, before relieving Harry and Ron of the enormous Trunk and dragging it over to the house.

Ron grabbed Hedwig again, leaving Harry to his broomstick. "Dad got the Portkey made secretly." he said in a whisper, following behind Mr. Weasley at a safe distance so that he wouldn't overhear them. "Doesn't want anyone at the Ministry... well, or anyone else for that matter knowing that we've got you here you know."

Harry nodded rather grimly, thinking of people like Cornelius Fudge or Rita Skeeter. "I'll bet he doesn't."

If Ron could have made a reply to this, it was drowned by Molly Weasley, Ron's mother. As the two boys stepped through the door, she had shot out of the kitchen and thrown herself at Harry to give him a motherly hug. "Oh Harry! I'm just so glad you're here! We've all just been worried sick, those Muggles, they don't know anything about... oh, You-Know-Who could have just...well we don't want to think about that now do we!" She disentangled herself from Harry and leaned over Ron, licking her finger and wiping a smudge from the side of his nose.

"Mom!" Ron protested, shaking himself free. "Leave me be!"

"Then make sure that you two head upstairs and get yourselves cleaned up properly for dinner!" Said Mrs. Weasley sternly.

Obediently, Harry and Ron trouped upstairs past Fred and George's, Percy's and Ginny's rooms. They were mostly quiet, even the twins'. As they went by each one, Ron quickly filled him in on his family's more recent doings.

"Percy's still at work." Ron began, gesturing at the first closed door. "He's been awfully busy since the death of Mr. Crouch, and quite a bit more quiet. I suspect it was him who made the Portkey for dad." He continued the commentary as they arrived at the second door down. "I don't know where Fred and George were off to today...playing some practice Quidditch I expect." Ron lowered his voice. "Mum hasn't been as upset lately about their joke shop idea. I don't think she's quite as impressed with the ministry as she was when Percy got a job there."

Harry nodded. He was beginning to get the impression that many of the Witches and wizards that supported Dumbledore's methods and ways of doing things believed that a Ministry of Magic with Cornelius Fudge in charge was little more than a joke shop in itself. This was not necessarily a bad thing. If Mrs. Weasley felt that the idea of her sons making wands that turned into rubber chickens more satisfactory than working in a Ministry of Magic Job, then there was certainly hope that others would support his Headmaster as well.

Finally, at Ginny's door, Ron lowered his voice still further. "Ginny's just asleep. It was her turn to do the chores today." Ron swept by without glancing up, but Harry was able to discern a pair of shining brown eyes peering at him from behind the slight crack in the door. They disappeared quickly as Harry paused to look.

Finally, in Ron's room at the end of the hall, Harry collapsed on the orange and black Chudley Cannons bedspread and stared at the ceiling. His friend's pet owl Pigwidgeon was flying rapidly around the overhead candle light, like a moth at a flame. Harry, who was starting to get a bit dizzy staring at a tiny whizzing owl, swung back up and looked at Ron.

"You said there was lots to talk about!"

"There is! I told you a bit of it while we were going down the hall... but here's the important thing!" he paused dramatically. "Mum's not just been writing to Dumbledore, she's ALSO been writing to SIRIUS BLACK!"

Now this was news to Harry. Mrs. Weasley had been writing to his Godfather. Sirius had never sent Harry anything that might have tipped him off about this development. In fact, Harry had been worried because of not getting anything from Sirius yet this Summer. "Why?" he asked Ron. "Did you find out why?"

Ron looked a little bit sheepish. "Well... I tried. But Pig isn't very good at stealth. I sent him to get the letters, but he didn't... well... actually he picked it up and flew off to my room in plain sight of mum. Stupid owl. I read about one or two lines. It was something like 'Dear Sirius, I'm very sorry about my earlier reaction to your transformation.'"

Harry looked extremely disappointed. "She was probably just apologizing for screaming at him in the Hospital Wing last year. Doesn't sound like anything super important."

"I told you though, there were loads of letters there!" came the protest. "It couldn't have taken them that many replies to say 'Sorry' and 'Apology Accepted.' Besides. If it was just that, then you explain to me the enormous earful I got for reading the darn thing."

Harry was just about to tell him that his mum had probably given him heck for trying to read her private mail, but was stopped by Mrs. Weasley calling them for dinner. Ron and Harry were joined on the steps by a now wide-awake Ginny and then at the table by Fred and George, fresh in from, as Ron had predicted, Quidditch Practice. Percy arrived late, halfway through - and looking extremely tired and harried. Dinner itself was as excellent as it always was at the Weasleys, something Harry was entirely thankful for, as he was sure if he had to eat another one of Dudley's revolting dietary cottage cheese and lettuce sandwiches, he would go mad.

When Harry was just finishing up his final helping of pudding, Mr Weasley left the table and returned a short while later, bringing with him a number of letters and a small brown package. His face was split in a very wide grin that only grew wider as he handed letters from Hogwarts to Harry and Ron. Percy too, looked surprisingly pleased. That's when Harry noticed the difference in the letters from this year. While normally, Hogwarts mail came in a parchment envelope addressed in Green ink and closed with a red seal, these ones came with silver ink on the cover and were decidedly thicker.

"I don't believe it!" Ron was saying, tearing his open. Harry followed suit, and to his great surprise a silver badge emerged along with the letter. He looked to Ron, who gave him a pleased grin. "We're both Prefects!"

"Amazing!" Harry said, turning the badge over in his hands.

"What kind of Prefects?" Fred asked from across the table.

"Kind?"

"Read the bottom of your badges." Percy advised.

Harry gave his badge another look. "I'm 'Assistant Gryffindor Prefect'." He read aloud. "Sounds pretty good. How about you Ron?"

Ron was trembling with intense excitement. "Gryffindor Prefect!" he exclaimed, holding up his badge excitedly. "This is great!"

Mr and Mrs Weasley, Fred, George, Percy and Ginny gathered around Ron to congratulate him. Harry was more than happy for his friend, as last year, the two had gotten into an enormous argument stemming from the fact that Ron had felt very overshadowed by all the attention Harry seemed to receive without trying. Harry had felt awful without his best friend around, and would have gladly traded all of his celebrity-esque status to have him back. He watched all of the family giving him grand hugs for a bit, then turned his attention back to the Hogwarts letter.

Among other things, it included all the new books he would require for this year. He paid special attention to the Defence against the Dark Arts volumes. This time, the new teacher seemed to have an interest in dark creatures. There were books on vampires, ghouls, trolls and, to Harry's immense horror, werewolves. He began to hope with all his might that the teacher wasn't Professor Snape achieving his goal at last, and trying to finish teaching them ways to track down and destroy Professor Lupin.

"What's the matter Harry?" Ron asked with concern. "Are you all right? You look like you've seen You-Know-Who!"

Harry was suddenly aware of the entire family staring at him with immense concern. "Er... nothing... I just don't like books on Werewolves, that's all."

He hadn't needed to say any more. Everyone at the table had known Professor Lupin in some way, and everyone there realized what must have been going on in Harry's mind. Mr. Weasley gave him a sympathetic pat on the back, and pushed the brown package across the table at him. "Here, why don't you open this. It's for you too."

A little shakily, Harry pulled the package towards him, and pulled off the wrapping. A letter, addressed with what he recognized as Hermione's neat hand sat atop a small, but decidedly thick book. 'Advanced Quidditch Moves' the title read. Ron looked extremely impressed. "Read the letter!" he demanded.

Harry picked it up, and read it aloud.

"Happy Birthday Harry, and hello to Ron too. I've had a wonderful Summer over here at Viktor's. His parents are very nice, and said that they were very pleased to see Viktor making Muggle-born friends. They don't agree with any of You-Know-Who's ideals, and were ill-impressed with Durmstrang's Headmaster too... remember Karkarof? They're thinking of transferring Viktor to Beauxbatons or Hogwarts! I hope he comes here, won't that be nice?" Harry paused and took a peek at Ron who was now scowling furiously. "I hope that you, Ron, all of Ron's family and Sirius Black are doing well. Please come to Diagon Alley on Friday, that's when I'm getting my books. We could all meet up at Flourish and Blotts to get our books together. Once again, Happy Birthday. Love, Hermione."

"I'm not going!" Ron said, but only Harry heard. To everyone else, he was drowned out by Mrs. Weasley.

"Isn't that nice. We'll all go tomorrow then, and you two can see Hermione."

Ron scowled in his mother's direction, but ended up smiling again as she started proudly going on about their fourth prefect in the family.

Harry however, felt a little detached as he cleaned up and got ready for bed. Excited as he was at the prospect of seeing Hermione, and spending what promised to be a wonderful remainder of his summer holidays with Ron and the Weasleys, he couldn't help feeling a little worried. What if...

But he never did get to finish that thought, as he'd long fallen asleep, exhausted by all the excitement over dinner. His dreams were untroubled, and if he'd been at all aware of the current state of affairs in the realm of Happy Voldemort Worship, he'd probably have been all the more thankful.