Harry Potter and the Crystal of the Founders

Chapter One:

Summer Begins

The early morning air in Privet Drive was cool and peaceful. The only noises that could be heard were birds, and the occasional far-off car. The sun had not yet risen, and all that could be seen was a faint pinkish-gold tinge in the east. Nothing broke the lazy stillness that hung over Little Whinging.

The lawns of Privet Drive were yellow, though a few hardy blades of grass were beginning to push up through the soil. There was a hose-pipe ban in effect, and almost everything was dry and brittle. Trees were the only green that could be seen. The trees had full, green leaves, and the ban seemed not to affect them. The cars that sat in the driveways of Number Four were dusty and dull, and the windows on the houses were closed, hiding their sleeping occupants. All except one.

A teenage boy in Number Four was the only one awake, as yet. He leaned on the window sill and looked out at the houses, emerald eyes flashing in the dawn light.

Harry Potter scanned the sky for any sign of his owl, Hedwig. She had been gone for several days, and he needed to send a letter. He ran a hand through his messy black hair worridly, and looked fruitlessly for Hedwig once more before moving away from the window. Just as he was turning away, a large barn owl swooped across the street, at the same moment his alarm clock went off. Hastily he shut it off, before it could wake the other occupants of Number Four, then took the newspaper from the owl.

He only took one glance at the front page before tossing the newspaper onto his desk, which was decidedly wobbly and battered, ever since Dudley had kicked it, and flopping back down onto his bed, which had a lumpy mattress, thin sheets, and a flat pillow. He stared at the ceiling in disgust, his mind reeling.

How could the Daily Prophet be so blind? The most dangerous Dark wizard ever to live was alive and active again, and yet the front page news was the Weird Sisters!

There was articles about Voldemort, articles about Death Eaters, and whole pages about mysterious deaths of disappearances. Nothing that would tell Harry what was really happening in the wizarding world.

Certainly, there were now also articles about how to defend yourself from Death Eaters and Dementors in every edition, there were also hysterical letters from paranoid readers, but there was no real information, nothing that Harry didn't already know. They had gone back to ordianary things, things that didn't matter. Things nobody cared about.

That's not true. People didn't think Sirius mattered. And you care. You care a great deal.

Shut up, he told himself sternly. You don't need to think about that.

But he was lying to himself. He did need to think about it. He needed to talk to someone. Someone who understood; someone his own age. Ron and Hermione were his best friends, but they had no idea what he was feeling. They had never gone through this. They had no idea what it was like. Sure, maybe they missed Sirius, but not the same way he did. Sirius was gone; Harry could never talk to him again.

And it was Harry's fault. He had been stupid enough to believe it when Voldemort had planted a dream in his head, and he had gone rushing off to the Department of Mysteries.

Angrily, he rose and began pacing. Was there anyone he could talk to, anyone wo knew exactly how he felt? Certainly not the Dursleys. Not Ron or Hermione. Not Dumbledore. Before, he had always talked to Sirius. But now Sirius was what he needed to talk about. Was there anyone who knew about Sirius, or someone he could trust?

"Harry...I'b really sorry...Was dad man- was Sirius Black a- a friend of yours?"

That was it! Harry was amazed it had taken him so long. Neville was, quite possibly, the only person who knew how he felt that he could talk to. Harry grabbed a piece of parchment and sat down at the desk. He dipped his quill in the ink pot, then chewed on the end, wondering how to start. After a moment, he placed the quill on the parchment and began writing.

Dear Neville,

I'm writing because of what happened in the Department of Mysteries. I'm sorry I never explained what was happening to you before I dragged you off there. I really need to tell someone about what happened that night.

Before my parents died, they appointed Sirius Black my godfather. I didn't find out until my third year. He was sent to Azkaban for something he didn't do. Honestly, I wouldn't be saying this if I wasn't absolutely sure.

Here Harry paused, chewing on the tip of the quill again. He wondered how best to phrase the next part. Truth be told, he was already feeling miserable just thinking about Sirius, and writing Sirius's name was even harder than thinking it. Finally, he loaded the quill again and slowly, painstakingly, wrote more:

Peter Pettigrew is alive right now, unless Voldemort killed him. Sirius didn't do it. When Sirius and Peter were at school, they both became unregistered Animagi. When my parents were being hunted by Voldemort, the needed a Secret Keeper to hide them. They chose Sirius, then switched to Peter without telling anyone, as a bluff. But Peter's a Death Eater, and he betrayed them.

When Sirius cornered Peter, Peter blew apart the stret with his wand behind his back, then cut off his finger, switched into a rat, and ran.

Here Harry had to stop. His hand was shaking so badly that he dropped the quill. He wiped tears out of his eyes viciously before picking up the quill again.

I fell asleep during our History of Magic exam, and I had a dream. I dreamed that Voldemort had Sirius captive in the Department of Mysteries, but he didn't. Voldemort planted it in my head to get me to come. I was stupid, and I did come. And then Sirius heard about it, and he came to rescue me. And he got pushed through the arch by Bellatrix Lestrange. He got killed by his own cousin.

Tears were now trickling down Harry's cheeks, but he didn't raise his hand to wipe them away. He felt that if he stopped writing, he would never finish. All he could do was try not to let out a howl of grief, and try to write the thing that had been hurting him most.

Ever since he died, I've felt terrible. It's my fault he's dead, and I can't stop thinking about it. I can't write to Ron or Hermione, because they don't know how I feel. You're the only one I could think of. Please write back.

Harry

He rolled up the parchment, sealed it, and adressed it, just as Hedwig fluttered in through the window and landed on the desk. He smiled half-heartedly and stroked her head. "How're you doing, Hedwig?"

She gave a low hoot and nudged him lovingly. He picked up the letter he had written to Ron and Hermione, the one he had written to Lupin and the one to Neville, and tied them to her leg. She gulped some water as he talked to her. "Deliver the ones to Ron, Hermione and Lupin first, then give Neville his. Be careful."

She nipped him gently and gave another low hoot before swooping out the window again. By now the sun had fully risen, and he could hear the Dursleys getting up. He sat on the edge of his bed.

Harry waited until he heard water running in the bathrooms before he rose and walked over to his window. He carefully slipped his legs over the edge, then eased himself down, until he was hanging by just his finger tips. He let go and dropped to the grass. He only fell a foot or two before his feet connected with the ground.

Crouching down, he sped across the lawn, and over to the tree by the window. Harry jumped, and caught the broken branch, then pulled himself into the leafy canopy. He settled himself in the place where all the branches connected; it made a deep nest. The leaves hid him from view, but he could hear the morning news floating through the open front window.

He waited in the tree for five minutes. When he had heard about the drought, the movie stars, the forest fire, and the criminals, he decided that there would be nothing of importance on the news. So he climbed down from the tree and set off for the park.

There was nobody there yet when he arrived, so he sat down on one of the swings (They had all been repaired over the school year). He sat there for a long time, thinking, until he became aware that someone was watching him. He looked up, and was shocked to find the park was full of children and their parents. The person who had been watching him was Mark Evans, standing a few feet away, obviously waiting for the swing. "Sorry," Harry mumbled, getting up. Mark backed up a few steps, but Harry walked past him and headed for the park gate.

Or, that's what he intended to do. He had barely taken a few steps when he bumped into someone. The someone turned around, and he saw that it was Piers, one of Dudley's gang. "Watch it," Piers snarled. All the other members of the gang looked up from the huddle.

"Hey..." Piers grabbed Harry's arm and stopped him from retreating. Gordon, Malcom, and Piers formed a circle around him. Dudley hung back a bit, afraid of Harry. "Look what we got, Big D."

Harry gave a small, secret smile. "What're you smirking at?" snarled Gordon. Harry shook his head, still smiling.

"Go on, Big D, punch him!" encouraged Malcom.

"Yeah!" exclaimed Piers excitedly.

Harry grinned. "Go on, Dudley, I dare you. Hit me."

He laughed softly when Dudley hesitated. "You're afraid of me. You can't hit me. And you know very well what I'll do if you do."

"You c-can't threaten m-me with that," stammered Dudley, raising a fist half-heartedly.

"I just did, Dudley. And you're st-st-stuttering," he said, grinned wider than ever. Dudley made a noise halfway between a snarl and a squeak.

"You can't do that, out of your freak school. They'll expel you," Dudley said, recovering slightly.

"I can't, but remember those other people, at the end of last year? They can. And you know they will, Dudley. All I have to do is write to them."

Dudley paled. His gang was watching him with shock. Harry pushed past a terrified Dudley, smirking. He saw people staring at him, amazed that he had come away unscathed from an encounter with Dudley. He took a few running steps, then vaulted over the chainlink fence. The day had gone by surprisingly fast so far, and the sun was directly overhead. He hurried back to Number Four; hopefully he could get there before Dudley.

Luck was with him; Dudley wasn't home yet, and he managed to sneak back in through his window unnoticed. He sighed and lay back on his bed, thinking, but when he closed his eyes, he saw Sirius falling through the veil again.His eyes snapped open, and he found himself shivering.

BANG!

He sat bolt upright, looking around wildly. The source of the noise was a large, disoriented barn owl sitting on his window sill, blinking. He dashed over to the window and opened it, pulling the owl in. He set it carefully beside Hedwig's empty cage. Harry untied the letter, which was very thick, and sat down on the edge of his bed. He opened it, and a piece of paper fell out of the overstuffed envelope. He picked it up. It read:

Dear Mr. Potter,

This letter contains your OWL diplomas. Please be aware that the scores are as follows:

O- Outstanding (Pass)

E- Exceeds Expectations (Pass)

A- Acceptable (Pass)

P- Poor (Fail)

D- Dreadful (Fail)

T- Terrible (Fail)

Happy holidays,

Professor Tofty, M.O.M.

Harry pulled out all the papers, then set them beside him. He picked up the first diploma with shaking fingers. It was written in emerald green ink, much of which was babble that he cared nothing about. There was only one line he cared about. It was near the bottom of the parchment. It read: Charms- E.

He sighed in relief, then set the diploma on his bed beside him and pulled the second one out. He scanned it quickly, then read: Transfiguration- E.

Harry set it on the bed and pulled out the third one. Defense Against the Dark Arts- O+.

He smiled; he had known he would get an O on that one, even if Umbridge had been completely useless. The plus was a bit of a surprise for him, but he was happy all the same.

Then he reached for the next one. Potions. He hesitated; if he didn't get an O in Potions, he couldn't be an Auror. Harry took a deep breath, then looked at the grade. Potions- E.

"No," he gasped. "No way."

Harry swallowed to quell the disappointment rising in his throat, and set down the diploma.

He picked up some more diplomas. Herbology- O, Care of Magical Creatures- O, Astronomy- A.

"That's because of Umbrige and McGonagall and Hagrid," Harry muttered to himself. "Who could really concentrate when Hagrid was being sacked, anyway?" Harry picked up the second last diploma. "Divination- D," he read, then tossed the diploma aside. "Ah, well, that always was a rubbish subject. At least now I don't have to make up fake dreams and pretend to see signs in tea leaves anymore."

Harry picked up the last diploma. "History of Magic- D," He also tossed that one aside. "That's because I had that dream, and I walked out, and also because I don't even try to take notes or study."

He slowly gathered up his diplomas and put them in a stack on his desk. Out of habit, Harry took one glance out his window for Hedwig, and then pushed his bed over and pulled up the loose floor board. He pulled out the box of Honeydukes candy Ron had sent him, and sat eating a Chocolate Frog while staring out the window.

He stayed in his bedroom for the rest of the day, reading, looking over his diplomas, and working on homework. He finished an entire box of chocolates, McGonagall's essay on Animagi, Snape's essay on Veritaserum, and Flitwick's essay on the Fidelius Charm. He set aside the roll of parchment, closed Charming and Chamers, and rubbed his eyes. Three essays was enough, for one day.

Harry put Charming and Charmers into his trunk, along with the three essays, then straightened up and looked around. His bedroom was a horrible mess, because he hadn't bothered to clean it up at all. Each time he had picked up a book to occupy himself, he had thrown it aside after only minutes, and gone back to either staring at the ceiling or exercising.

The doors of his wardrobe were open, revealing a tangle of Muggle clothes, most of which were torn or faded in some way, and all of which were far too large for him. His trunk was also open, showing stacks of large spellbooks, rolls of parchment, a cauldron, and robes of red and gold, plain black, and dress robes of emerald green. A number of unusual objects were scattered around the room, including a small glass top, called a Sneakoscope, a certain aged piece of parchment, the Marauders Map, and a silvery Invisibility Cloak.

Harry could imagine the one item that was missing: a Firebolt, the fastest broomstick in the world. The Firebolt should have been leaning against the wall, the twig ends neatly clipped, and the glossy, highly polished handle reflecting the amber light coming from the window, but it was at Hogwarts. It was his most treasured possesion, a birthday gift from Sirius...

The sun was setting, so Harry changed into his pajamas and climbed into bed early. He wished more than ever he had someone to talk to, but maybe the Order would rescue him soon.

Despite the fact that he had missed breakfast, lunch, and supper that day, he didn't feel very hungry, although just one box of candy shouldn't have filled him up. He felt extraordianarily tired, and he supposed it had something to do with waking up at five in the morning. But he was not to be assured the restful sleep he deserved.

Harry fell asleep the moment his eyes closed. Instantly, pictures began forming in his mind, and it was as if someone was playing a film sequence behind his eyelids.

In unbearable slow motion, he watched, frozen, as Sirius duelled with Bellatrix Lestrange; watched as Sirius was hit by a Stunner, watched as Sirius was knocked through the fluttering, ragged black veil. And, just like in real life, he didn't come out the other side.

Harry felt suddenly winded, and every tiny noise semed to echo in his ears, even his own heartbeat. "Sirius!" he heard himself scream. "Sirius! Come back! You can't be dead, you're not dead! No, Sirius! Come back, please!"

Then he heard laughing, he turned; it was Bellatrix Lestrange. She sneered, "Did you love him, Itty Bitty Baby Potter? Did you love him?" Then he heard other Death Eaters laughing at him, mocking him; he heard Hermione talking about his 'saving-people thing'; he heard Snape insulting him, his dad, and Sirius, and making fun of his potion, and then he heard Dumbledore reciting the Prophecy.

Harry called for Dumbledore to stop, but Dumbledore continued, then Harry heard Sirius shouting: "This is your fault, all your fault, Harry! You did this to me! You killed your parents, you killed Cedric!"

Sirius appereared in front of the veil again, with James and Lily beside him, and Harry tried to get to them, but Bellatrix and the Death Eaters held him back. No matter how hard Harry struggled, they held him there, and he watched as Sirius scowled at him, then turned and walked away with his parents. Then everything went dark, and Harry sank down and started crying.

In the morning, Harry woke to the sound of his alarm clock beeping. Groaning, he turned it off, then untangled himself from the blankets and rolled out of bed, just in time to open the window and receive his Daily Prophet from the owl.

This morning, he didn't even glance at it, only threw it on the wobbly desk. Sighing, he went over to the wardrobe, and studied his reflection in the mirror on the door. His raven hair was messier than usual, and he was extremely pale. He had dark circles under his eyes. Looking more closely, Harry saw that some of the colour seemed to have leaked out his eyes, leaving them a dull, flat, green, rather than sparkling emerald. His eyes looked haunted and dead, as if he had been in Azkaban.

He turned sharply away from the wardrobe, and changed into a pair of sweatpants and a sweater, then slipped out the window and onto the lawn. The sky was a bit pink in the east, but mostly dull grey, like his mood. He began jogging, like he did most mornings. He went past the park, then farther, and farther, until he became out of breath. He felt a tiny bit proud of himself. At the beginning of the summer, he had barely made it five blocks. Now he ran almost two kilometers.

The sky was now lightening drastically, so he hurried back to Privet Drive before the neighbors began to wake up. If they saw him, they would begin muttering about his shabby appearance.

He pulled himself back through the window just as Aunt Petunia hammered on the door. "Boy! You get down stairs and get breakfast cooked! Now!"

Hastily, Harry changed into a pair of faded jeans and a sweater that was far too large for him, before hurrying downstairs, rolling up the sleeves while he did so. When he entered the kitchen, Aunt Petunia already had bacon and eggs on the stove, Uncle Vernon was reading the Muggle newspaper, and Dudley had his eyes fixed on the TV. "Finish cooking that, and don't you dare let it burn!" Aunt Petunia snapped at him. Harry nodded dully.

Ten minutes later, breakfast was on the table. While Harry was still picking at his eggs, Dudley was already wolfing down his third helping of bacon. The diet of the previous years had gone down the drain. The diet, combined with boxing, had resulted in Dudley losing almost twenty pounds. He's probably already gained back thirty pounds, Harry thought. Harry wasn't complaining, however. It meant that he could now eat larger sized portions of food, and of more variaty.

"Boy," snapped his Uncle. Harry looked up at him. "Your aunt and I can't afford to pay for your upkeep anymore. We've decided you need to pay for yourself. Get a job before the end of the week."

"Yes, Uncle Vernon," said Harry. Uncle Vernon looked at him closely, clearly suspicious by this lack of resistance, but Harry kept his face blank, something that wasn't very hard to do.

Rather than stay at the table with the Dursleys, Harry forced himself to eat quickly, then went back upstairs to his room. He sat down at his desk then pulled a sheet of parchment from a drawer and dipped his quill in his ink pot. After a moment he began writing a list of places to look for a job.

After he had listed every place he could think of, he folded the list and put it in his pocket. After an attempt to comb his hair, which failed miserably, he slipped out the door and started walking toward the mall.

The first places he tried were clothing stores, but there he was told that he 'didn't have the right look'. At the restraunts, he was informed too late that all the jobs had been taken by high school students earlier. Around lunch he sat on a bench, dejectedly looking at his list. All the stores had been crossed off.

Just when he was getting up to go, a brightly coloured sign caught his eye. It was a pet store called Noah's Ark. It wasn't the bright colours that made him smile, however, it was the sign in the window: Now Hiring.

He tucked the list back into his pocket and hurried over to the store. When he opened the door, bells jingled, causing the man behind the counter to look up. Harry cleared his throat, then hopefully asked, "Are you hiring right now?"

The man smiled. "That's what the sign says," he replied. Harry smiled as well.

"Well I'm, um, looking for a job."

The man chuckled. "I'd noticed. I'm Stephan, by the way."

"Harry Potter."

"What are your credidentials?"

Harry felt suddenly uneasy. "I don't really have any," he admitted.

Stephan shook his head, still smiling. "No, I mean, do you have any experience with animals? Do you have any pets? Are you compatible with any particular animals?"

Harry nodded, relieved. "Um, well I've got an owl. I'm especially good with snakes. I don't really have any experience with any animals but dogs, cats, and the aforementioned two, though."

Stephan was suddenly interested. "Snakes, you say? How good are you?"

Harry shifted. "Pretty good, I guess. See, it's kind of weird. I've spent years studying snakes, body language, and stuff, and I've, um, learned what certain sounds and movements mean. And then I practiced all that. So, I can, well, talk to snakes."

Stephan gestured to him. "Come, then. Back here."

Harry followed Stephan to the back wall of the shop, which was covered with tanks. Bright, flashy, fish with tails like flags and tiny silver minnows swam in bubbly aqua water, while salamaders and newts lounged in small pools of water, or hid under broad, leafy plants. Snakes of all sizes and breeds slithered around their tanks, which were filled with wood shavings, large, smooth, rocks or sand. There were large pieces of drift wood for the snakes to climb, and big chunks of granite or sandstone for them to hide under in each tank.

Stephan led Harry over to a large tank that contained a bright green and yellow boa constrictor. "She's been quite listless for a long time," Stephan explained, gesturing to the snake. "Doesn't move very much, and barely eats. We can't figure out what's wrong with her."

Harry glanced at Stephan, who was looking at him expectantly, then lowered himself so he could see the snake better. "Hello," he hissed. The snake's head shot up, and she stared him in the eye. He heard Stephan gasp.

The snake was silent for a moment, then hissed, "Who calls me?"

"I did, Cordelia," he replied. She gave a gasp. "How do you know my name?" she hissed, tilting her head.

He shrugged. "I just do. What's wrong, Cordelia? Why won't you eat?"

She drooped back down to the warm rock she was curled up on. "Lonely," she answered, after a pause. "I'm all alone."

Harry stood back up, then hissed to all the other snakes, "Who else is lonely?"

Several snakes stopped what they were doing, and pressed themselves to the glass, but only one answered; a large pale yellow snake with creamy markings. "I am."

"Would you like a friend, Salem?" Harry asked. He, like Cordelia, was surprised. "I just do," Harry replied, to the unanswered question. Salem nodded, so Harry reached up and lifted the lid from Salem's tank. Stephan decided to let him do whatever it was that Harry was doing. Salem slithered up onto Harry's arm and curled around it. Harry replaced the lid on the tank, then crouched so that Salem could see Cordelia.

"Do you like her?" Harry asked. Salem enthusiastically hissed the snake equivalent of, "Damn, she's hot!" while Cordelia said the same thing. Harry smiled. He lifted the lid, then eased Salem inside. Both snakes slithered up to the other, tounges flickering, before curling together under a heat lamp.

Harry stood up. "They were lonely," he explained, in English, to Stephan. Stephan smiled.

"You know, I didn't think you were for real, but I guess you are. I would consider yourself hired."

Harry smiled, then thought of something. "Um, Stephan, well, I go to... St Brutus's, you know."

Stephan frowned. "Are you planning to pull anything?"

"No."

"Are you planning to hurt anyone?"

"No."

"Then I wouldn't worry about it, Harry. I really don't care where you go to school, as long as you do well here," Stephan assured him, smiling again. Harry grinned; it was infectious. "Work starts tomorrow, at eight," Stephan continued. "Four days a week, Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday."

"I'll be there. See you tomorrow, Stephan."

That night, like the one before it, was not restful for Harry. Again, in his dreams, he relived the worst moments of his life: "Kill the spare." "The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the heir beware." "MORSMODRE!" "Nasty temper he's got, that Sirius Black." "Justin's been waiting for something like this to happen ever since he let slip to Potter he was Muggle-born." I must not tell lies. "Trip Jinx, Potter! Hey, Professor- PROFESSOR! I've got one!" "AVADA KEDAVRA!" "Who wants to see me take off Snivelly's pants?" "He's got Padfoot! He's got Padfoot at the place where it's hidden!" "There's nothing you can do, Harry...nothing... he's gone." ...and either must die at the hand of the other, for niether can live while the other survives...

Harry was standing in a dark void, listening to a babble of slurred voices while images of people swirled around him. He could see Frank and Alice Longbottom... Peter Pettigrew and Bellatrix Lestrange... Bertha Jorkins... Kreature... Cedric... Lily and James... Sirius...

A shrill buzzing suddenly filled his ears, setting his teeth on edge; the void crumbled and the people faded. Harry's eyes snapped open, and he pulled an arm free of his tangled blankets to shut off the alarm clock. After a moment, his trembling fingers found and pressed the button, stopping the harsh siren.

It took him a while to free himself from his sweat-soaked blankets, which were wrapped about him like a straight-jacket.When he eventually stood, his shaking legs crumpled under him immediately, and so he sat, knees drawn up to his chest, face buried in his knees, shuddering with silent sobs.

When he finally stopped crying, Harry felt drained and exhausted. He glanced up at the clock: 7:28. He wiped his face on the corner of his blanket, then rose unsteadily and limped over to the wardrobe, only to be confronted with his haggard reflection in the mirror. He was very pale, and eyes, far from being green, looked sunken and shadowy. His hair was impossibly tangled, and it seemed to have grown a great deal overnight. He ran a hand over his chin, and was shocked to find stubble growing there.

Harry removed the hand and glared at his reflection. To his surprise, he felt a tickling all over his head, and then he watched as his hair untangled and neatened, his eyes lightened and sparkled, and his skin became slightly tanned. He touched his chin again, an found that the stubble was gone! He stared, shocked, at the unrecognizeable person in the mirror. He no longer looked sickly and pale, but happy and healthy, exactly the way a sixteen year-old should. He looked as if he had been outside often, playing some kind of sport.

Shaking his head slightly, he reached into the wardrobe and pulled out the very best clothes he could find: a plain red T-shirt that was only slightly too big for him, and an un-ripped pair of jeans that fitted him almost perfectly. He could not, however fix his tattered shoes. Even when he hopefully glared at them, they didn't change a bit, so he slipped them on with a sigh.

When he smiled at his new reflection, he could see the Harry Potter that played Quidditch at Hogwarts.

He heard a soft hooting behind him, and he turned to see Hedwig sitting on his desk with four letterstied to her leg. "Hedwig!" he cried, hurrying over to her and untying the letters from her leg with one hand, while stroking her head with the other. She clacked her beak at him, rubbing her head against his hand at the same time. When Harry finally had the letters untied, she took a sip of water from her cage, then tucked her head under her wing and went to sleep. Harry sat down on the edge of his bed and unrolled the first letter.

Dear Harry,

It's good to hear that the Dursleys are treating you well. I hope you're not just making that up though, because if they are being nasty to you, then you could just tell us, and I'm sure Professor Dumbledore would remove you from there ASAP! (As Soon As Possible)

I can't write anything that you really want to know, however, because 1) We're not allowed to, and 2) Professor Dumbledore is going to check these letters over once we're done. Please don't fly off the handle, Harry, it's for security! I will do my best to tell you what I can. (Which isn't much, sorry!)

Ron and I are at the You-Know-Where, along with some new people, but I can't say who. (You've met them all, though.) It's like last year; we're still too young, not allowed in. Fred and George have upgraded the Extendables. Now they're invsible, and can go through Imperturbable Charms. I must find out how they do that.

Actually, the You-Know-What relented a little bit, and told us some things, but we already knew all of it. Mrs. Weasley wasn't happy when she found that we already knew it all, therefore meaning that we had been eavesdropping, but she quickly 'forgot' about it, mostly thanks to Fred and George. (Don't ask, I don't know why either.)

Some new people joined. We're still decontaminating the You-Know-Where. You'd think they would just do it with magic, but no, we have to do it by hand. I'm not complaining though, I found some fascinating books when we were cleaning part of the library. (Yes, a library! It's huge, Ron keeps complaining how long it'll take to clean.) The funny thing is, though, I don't really like going in there. It almost seems like an insult, because it's just so... dark and dirty.

I'm done all my homework already. I hope you aren't waiting until the last minute, Harry. Ron is. I'm trying to get him to start studying for NEWTs, but he just refuses to! Honestly!

Oh, Professor Dumbledore wants me to ask you something. What did you write to Neville, Harry? (Yes, he's staying here, and some more people too, like I said.) He got rather upset. We were sitting at the table, eating breakfast, when Hedwig came in and gave us our letters. Ron, Professor Lupin and I read ours aloud, but when Ron asked Neville to read his letter, he snapped, "It's private. I assure you, there's nothing in here that would be of any information to anyone but me."

Then he just got up and walked off to his room. What was in that letter, Harry?

I hope you're doing all right. I'm sure they'll come to get you very soon.

Love, Hermione.

P.S. From Professor Dumbledore: I did not read about the upgraded Extendable Ears, and therefore know nothing about them. Happy Holidays.

Harry grinned. Knowing Hermione, she was probably looking for more school work to be done. Poor Ron, he thought. He carefully set aside the letter, then opened the next one, which was from Ron.

Dear Harry,

Me and Hermione are at the You-Know-Where. Some new people joined. At least now we've got some more people to talk with, because there's some non-members stating here as well, for some reason. The You-Know-What still won't let us in, though. They still don't think we can handle ourselves, apparently.

Hermione still hasn't given up on SPEW. When Professor Lupin found that nasty little git (you know who I'm talking about) hiding in the attic, Hermione actually asked Professor Lupin and Professor Dumbledore not to punish him! Can you believe it?

I swear, these days, Hermione is just maddening. She's finished all her homework, and she's already revising for NEWTs! How does she know what to study? And she's trying to get me to study as well!

There's a library here, too. I wonder why? Oh, well, it's probably cause this house is bigger than we thought. (Much bigger!) I hate that library, it's just creepy. Spiders everywhere! Dark and dusty with too many spiders, that's what it is.

I hope the Muggles are treating you well, Harry! If they're not, then just write to us. We'll get you out of there as soon as we can.

Actually, I want to ask you something. Harry please don't laugh at me; I know I just wrote that she was annoying, but I think I like her. Not just like a friend, but maybe, a girlfriend? I dunno, maybe I'm wrong, but please, either way, don't tell her I wrote that!

Your best mate, Ron

Harry put Ron's letter on top of Hermione's, then opened the third one. It was from Professor Lupin, and was extremely short. The contents of the letter made Harry's mood darken considerably. Was Remus trying to forget him? Was he perhaps angry at him? Did he blame Harry for Sirius's death? It appeared that way, because the letter was clipped and brusque.

Dear Harry,

Hope you're well. Write to us if anything happens.Will get you away from there soon.

Remus

Frowning, Harry put down the parchment, then unfolded the last letter. It was from Neville. Harry's stomach tightened, but he read the letter anyway. What use was it to write to a friend if he didn't read the reply?

Dear Harry,

I think I know how you feel. In fact, I'm absolutely certain I do. Awful. Whenever you're alone, you just see these thing, over and over, and you can barely sleep because you don't want to dream? I know, I'm like that too.

I'm sorry if I'm bringing up painful memories, but I really have to ask. Can you remember what happened when your parents were killed? All I can remember is screaming, when I think really hard. Sometimes I think I can see people, but I never exactly see their faces. Just tall blurry figures with cloaks. And sometimes I can't remember anything at all. Sometimes I forget completely, and sometimes it's a very strong memory.

I wish I'd gotten to meet Sirius. I wish lots of things, though, but I know most of them will never happen. Just from what you said, I know he was a great person. Can you tell me more about him?

I haven't asked Ron or Hermione about the Department, because I'm not sure they would answer. I don't blame you in the slightest for what happened, and you can't blame yourself either, because we wanted to come with you, even though you told us not to.

I cried for half an hour when I got your letter, because I remembered. And then I felt better. It really helped, because I felt better about myself, and I think I accepted the facts a bit more.

I'm at the You-Know-Where with Ron and Hermione, and some other people. We're still cleaning, though I don't mind very much. It hasn't really made much of a difference though, because this place still looks dark and evil. Sure, maybe not so dusty anymore, but without magic, we can't do very much else. And most of the really nasty portraits and things are attached to the walls with Permanent Sticking Charms.

Did you know how big this place is? Much bigger than it looks on the outside. On the inside, it's a mansion. Ron and I each have our own room now, and so do Hermione and Ginny, and the other people who're staying here. You'll get your own when you're here.

I hope you're being treated all right. Please write back.

Your friend, Neville

Harry smiled, though he had tears in his eyes. He quickly wiped them away, then gathered up the letters and put them on his desk, beside his OWL diplomas. Sighing, he turned and walked to the window and stood there, leaning on the sill.

The sun made shadows across the yellowed lawns, but also lit up the brass numbers on the houses. The sunrise was very pretty this morning: a bright gold sky dotted with pale creamy clouds. The bottoms of the clouds were a soft pink, like dusty roses

Movement caught his eye, and so he turned his attention from the sky to the sidewalk. An odd group of people was coming down the street, and though Harry couldn't see their faces, he knew who they were. He could instantly recognize Tonks, because nobody else would have bright red and gold hair. Professor McGonagall was looking very strange in a Muggle dress, though she still had her hair in a tight bun. Mad-Eye Moody lead the group, wearing a long overcoat and bowler hat, though the weather was quite nice. He had his hand in his pocket, and Harry knew it was clenched around his wand. Mr. Weasley was at the back, and Harry could tell someone, perhaps Hermione, had advised him on what to wear, because he was dressed quite normally in jeans and a dark blue sweater.

Harry wondered why they were coming to visit him. They had recieved his letters only a day ago, had they not? Then his heart sank; Lupin was not there. Maybe he really was avoiding Harry.

Harry had no time to ponder this, however, because the group was at the door. He jumped as he heard a pounding at the door below. He hurried toward the door of his bedroom, intending to get the door before the Dursleys woke up, but then, to his great relief, he heard someone answer the door, and realized that the Dursleys were already up.

He heard Moody's low, growling voice, then Uncle Vernon calling him. "Boy- Er, Harry, come down here."

Harry took the steps three at a time, landing with a thump at the bottom. Tonks, Moody, McGonagall and Mr. Weasley were all standing on the doorstep, looking expectantly at him. He glanced at Uncle Vernon, who was holding the door open, then cleared his throat and said, "Um, hi. Er... What're you all doing here?"

Tonks stepped forward into the house. "Well, we've come to make arrangements," she informed him, shaking his hand at the same time.

"Arrangements?" he asked nervously. Mad-Eye nodded. "Yes, Potter, arrangements."

"What kind?"

"Well," said Mr.Weasley, stepping into the house as well, "For when we pick you up."

Harry's heart began racing. He was leaving soon!

"Move, Dursley," growled Mad-Eye. "We don't feel like standing on the doorstep. Let us in."

And so Uncle Vernon did, though his face was very red, and his fat fingers were clenched around the dooknob so tightly that his knuckles were white. Harry recognized these danger signs, and made a mental note to avoid Uncle Vernon for a while. Moody and McGonagall both came into the house, looking around. They moved into the kitchen, gesturing for Harry to follow.

"So," said McGonagall. "We'll be picking you up in about two weeks, Potter. Yes, I know, a long time to wait, but we have problems at the Headquarters right now, and we can't let you come quite yet. Even Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley, and Mr. Longbottom are staying at the Leaky Cauldron right now. No, you cannot join them there," she added, correctly interpreting the look on Harry's face. "You are safer here."

He nodded silently, biting his tounge. Mr.Weasley continued where McGonagall had left off. "So, we'll owl you on that day, and then pick you up at 2:00. Have your trunk packed and in the living room. We're taking a Portkey."

Harry nodded again, then thought of something. "Er, well, it's got to be on a Wednesday, a Saturday, or a Sunday, because I've got a job. And I need to know the day before, so I can tell Stephan."

Moody nodded. "We'll do that, but if an emergency comes up, then we might have to get you on a different day, remember."

"Where are we going, when you do pick me up?" Harry asked. Tonks answered, after a pause.

"Grimmauld Place," she said softly. Harry sat up straight in his chair, staring at her, then shook his head. "I can't," he whispered.

"You've got to, Harry," Tonks replied, after another pause. "You've got to."

Harry shook his head stubbornly. "No, I cannot go to Grimmauld Place. It's too..."

He trailed off, looking at the floor. "You've got to go, Potter," said McGonagall softly. "Otherwise..." she also trailed off, leaving the rest unsaid.

"Memories hurt more than Death Eaters," Harry said, still staring at his shoes.

"Damn right they do," growled Moody. "Because you can't feel anything when you're dead."

Harry looked up at Moody's heavily scarred face, then at McGonagall, Tonks, and Mr.Weasley. All of them were looking at him. He sighed, then nodded in defeat. "All right then," he agreed.

Then it suddenly occurred to Harry how very light it was in the kitchen, how very bright the sunlight streaming through the window over the sink was. "Tonks," he asked, "What time is it?" She glanced at the Muggle watch on her left wrist. "Almost 8:30," she informed him.

"Shoot!" he cried springing up from his chair. "I'm late! Sorry got to go, it's my first day!" he raced down the hall, calling behind him, "Owl me!"

Then before anyone could reply, he was out the door and racing down the street.

It occurred to him, as he pelted past the park, how very fast he was running, and how far. That morning running had made a definite improvement.

Ten minutes later, he hurried through the front doors of the mall, sweaty and out of breath. Harry tried to wipe the sweat off his face as he walked toward Noah's Ark. To his surprise, the doors were still locked and the lights off. Stephan wasn't there yet. He heard footsteps behind him, and turned to see Stephan hurrying toward him, carrying a large wire cage with a cover over it. Harry quickly relieved him of the cage, so that he could get the keys out of his pocket and unlock the door.

They were greeted by a chorus of barking, meowing, cheeping, and the gurgle of water in the fish tanks. Stephan took the cage back from Harry and set it on the counter. "Hope you weren't waiting there too long," Stephan said. "Traffic was bad, sorry."

Harry shrugged. "Nah, I was there, like, thirty seconds before you."

"Oh, good," said Stephan, sounding relieved.

The cage contained three tiny kittens, a calico kitten with patches of orange, grey and white, a little orange fuzzball, and a white kitten with very long, silky, fur. All three looked up at him, mewing softly.

It took ten minutes for Stephan to show him how to work the cash register, and five more minutes for Stephan to show him around the store. The layout was fairly easy to remember. Pet food on the far right aisle, cages and tanks beside that, leashes, dog beds, pet gyms beside that, then the actual pets around the walls.

Harry's first task was to get the animals fed and clean the cages, if need be. Stephan helped, because Harry hadn't the faintest idea what to do, but he caught on quickly, making sure to memorise the needs of each pet. After the first few snakes, Stephan left him on his own and went into the back room.

The bells on the door jingled, and someone walked in. Harry continued to feed the snakes until someone tapped him on the shoulder. "Yes?" he said straightening up. It was a young woman with her daughter. Both had very long blonde hair and dark brown eyes.

"We're looking for a kitten," the mother informed him, "Could you advise us?"

"Sure," he replied, smiling. "Over here."

He showed them the three new kittens Stephan had brought in that morning; instantly the little girl fell in love with the little orange fuzzball, and vice versa. Within minutes the mother had paid for the kitten and food, and a very happy little girl left the shop, clinging to her mother's hand.

The rest of the day went quite quickly, and Harry found himself shaking hands with Stephan and walking out the door in no time, it seemed.

Harry walked slowly home in high spirits, smiling. His first day had gone incredibly well.

He went straight to his bedroom when he got back to Number Four, sat down at the wobbly desk, dipped his quill in ink, and began to write.

Dear Tonks,

I'm sorry I had to run off this morning, it was my first day working, and I was almost late. Technically I was, but Stephan got there after I did.

I need to ask you something. Is Professor Lupin angry with me? His letter was really short and kind of uptight. I think he blames me for Sirius's death. Do you know if that's true?

I hope you're doing all right; I'm fine.

Harry

Harry folded the letter up and sealed it, then reloaded his quill, grabbed another sheet of parchment, and adressed it to Ron.

Dear Ron,

I'm doing fine, how are you? Try not to let Hermione get to you, I'll be there in two weeks. Maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea to study a little bit though, because then you don't have to clean. Also, then you could spend some time together. You should also try to get her to loosen up a bit, try to get her to play chess with you, or something like that.

If you think you like her, find out if she likes you. If she doesn't, the worst she can do is laugh at you, right? Find out when her birthday is, and get her a present, to show that you really do like her.

Harry

Harry folded Ron's letter, then adressed a third one to Hermione.

Dear Hermione,

I'm doing all right, really. I'm not making this up. It's much better than last year.

What I wrote to Neville is private; I'm sorry, I'm not going to tell you. It's between me and him, and you really can't help us at all. What we write to each other is something that wouldn't interest you.

Ron said that you were studying for NEWTs already. Lighten up, Hermione, play chess with him, instead of studying. It's summer vacation! You were going spare to study for OWLs, do you really want to do that now? I'm not saying don't study, I'm saying take a few weeks off!

Try to go easy on Ron, he can't handle as much as you can. Hope you're doing well.

Harry

Dear Neville,

Thanks for writing back. It's good to know that you can understand how I feel. I wish you didn't have to, though. It's terrible, not being able to go to sleep because of these dreams. I don't know how you stand it.

Sirius was a really good person. It's hard to describe him, mostly because I really didn't know him too well. He was like... Well, he wasn't like anything or anyone, he just was a whole bunch of things. At Howarts, he was part of a group called the Marauders: Moony (Professor Lupin) Wormtail (Peter Pettigrew), Prongs (my dad), and Padfoot (Sirius).

Prongs and Padfoot were unregistered Animagi, and earned their nicknames because of it. Wormtail, because Peter was a rat, Prongs, because James was a stag, and Padfoot, because Sirius was a big, black, dog. They were all best friends.

Sirius was the best man at my parent's wedding. I guess I could say, he was the kind of person you could really look up to. I know I did. He always used to have good advice for me; he broke out of Azkaban to protect me, he came back to the country when I was in the Tri-Wizard Tournament, and he put his head through the fire in the Gryffindor common room so I could talk to him last year. I know you would have liked him.

I hope you're doing well at the You-Know-Where. Can you give me a bit of advice? Do you think Hermione likes Ron? I'm just curious.

I also would like to share a room with you, when I get there, if that's OK with you. It's because you're the one who understands, and I have bad nightmares. I might wake up crying or something.

Harry

Harry then folded up the letter and woke Hedwig with a gentle nudge. She blinked blearily at him, and gave a sleepy hoot. "Take these to Ron, Hermione, Neville and Tonks, Hedwig. Go on."

She nipped his finger affectionately, then stretched her wings, fluttered to the window sill, and took off.

Over the next two days Harry learned his way around Noah's Ark. He spent his day off weeding the dying flowerbed and watering the yellowed lawn, and so he was very happy when it was Thursday, and he could go back to work.

The pet store was quiet, not many people had come in yet. Stephan and Harry had split the job of feeding the animals, and so Harry was feeding a tiny golden retreiver puppy when he heard the bells on the door ring.

He continued to clean the cages and feed the pets, knowing that if anyone needed help, they would ask him. To his annoyance, his hair continued to fall over his eyes and onto his face as he was tending to the pets on the floor. He continually shook it out of his vision, but finally gave up when he realized it was useless.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw two people walk down the end of the aisle and begin looking at the cats. "Are there any you like, Mark?" He recognized the people as Mark Evans and his mother, but it was clear that they did not recognize him, because his hair was draped over his face.

"I kinda like that one," said Mark, "But an owl would be cool."

"Mark," said his mother, "Please, don't continue with this. I can understand that you think an owl would be an interesting pet, but they are wild animals, not tame pets. I thought we were past this. I'm not certain who sent you that letter, or why, but it was undoubtedly a prank. If magic really did exist, we would know, and there would have at least been a place to get all those farfetched supplies if someone really wanted you to be able to go to a school."

He sighed. "I know, but- I want it to be real. I really, really want it to be. Wouldn't it be great? I mean, if only-"

"Mark, that's enough."

"But if it could be, mum, what if there was even the slightest chance? That owl seemed tame enough, it brought the letter right to me, and that would be a lot of work for just a prank-"

"Mark!"

He paused for a moment, then said quietly, "Sorry."

His mother cleared her throat, and then turned back to the cats, changing the subject. "Are there any you want, or should we keep looking, Mark?"

He shrugged. "None of these, really; let's just keep going, and we can come back, right?"

"If you want to. It'll be your cat, and you'll have to keep it."

The two turned and began to walk away. Harry stared after them, wanting very badly to call out. Mark had a Hogwarts letter, but he wasn't going. He had no directions to Diagon Alley, and therefore, no reason to believe. Would he continue to ignore it, until something so obviously magical happened that ignorance was impossible? Would he get another letter, as Harry had?

Harry shook his head. It wasn't his problem.

But still, letting someone miss out on such an experience simply because of a lost direction sheet...

Harry bit down on a sigh, and turned away as well. He closed the puppy's cage, pushed his hands into his pockets, and started to walk down the aisle to put away the extra dog food. Suddenly, his foot shot out from underneath him, and he landed with a crash on his back, gasping from the speed of which it had happened.

"Ow," he moaned, staring up at the ceiling, and then pushed himself up, staring around for the source of his fall. There was a folded piece of paper lying on the floor nearby, with a dusty shoeprint on it. Harry stood up, unfolding the paper as he did.

It was a yellowish piece of heavy parchment- didn't this sound familiar. A Hogwarts letter, addressed to Mr. M. Evans.

"Hey," said a voice, making Harry look up from the paper. "That's mine."

Mark and his mother had looked back when they heard the noise of Harry's fall. A flash of fear crossed Mark's face when he saw it was Harry.

"Mark, I thought we threw that away?" said Mrs. Evans sharply.

"I kept it," Mark muttered, and then said, in a slightly stronger voice, "and I want it back."

The younger boy's shoe nudged something on the ground; it rolled slightly, attracting his gaze, and Harry's. Mark bent down and picked it up; the moment he touched it, a few white sparks shot from the tip. Mark stared at it.

"Give that back," said Harry quietly.

"I want my letter."

"Mark, this is enough-"

"Give me my wand!" snapped Harry.

The other two people stared at him. "Your what?"