Harry Potter and the Dementors Unleashed: Harry's Sixth Year

    The next day as Harry walked out into the kitchen, the first thing he saw was Uncle Vernon in his worst suit. Harry thought for a moment; there was no reason for Uncle Vernon to dress like this as two summers ago, when Mr. Weasley had last arrived, he had worn the best suit he owned to impress him, but then Harry remembered exactly what happened to that suit. Mr. Weasley, attempting to travel by Floo powder, ended up in the Dursleys electric fire place. Mr. Weasley ended up having to blow up the Dursleys fireplace, completely destroying Uncle Vernon's suit, and also spraying dust all over the Dursleys living room.

     Harry paused in the kitchen doorway, staring around at the Dursleys. Aunt Petunia was cooking breakfast and reading a tabloid. Uncle Vernon was half-hidden behind the Sunday newspaper, his beady eyes rolling across the print. Dudley was sitting at the table, watching television, and Harry did not feel at all offended that no one noticed he existed; on the contrary, he felt rather glad that the Dursleys were not yelling any longer. Harry sat down at the only empty chair and stared at the last page of Uncle Vernon's newspaper, for the headline gave his stomach the odd feeling of having missed a step going downstairs.

     "Uncle Vernon?" said Harry cautiously, not wanting to upset him so early.

     His Uncle grunted. Harry, deciding this was a sign of acknowledgement, said carefully, "Would you mind if I - if I might borrow that paper?"

     Uncle Vernon stared at Harry over the top of the paper. Teeth clenched, he set the paper down on the table and picked up another section.

     Harry looked at his uncle for a moment, then picked the paper up and flipped to the last page.

     The Daily Gazette Section A16

     Flying broomstick mystifies nation

     Yesterday at exactly 4:07 PM Richard Milestone, a man in Bristole, was mowing his lawn when something unexplainable happened: he saw a woman flying on a broomstick above his house. Wondering if possibly he were seeing things, he called out his neighbor, Michele Brown. Apparently, in the sky there was a woman with "bright pink hair like... bubblegum, maybe..." and was reported to be wearing emerald green robes. It was also reported that the broomstick she was flying on was plain brown, and people all across the nation are wondering the same thing - Do witches and wizards really exist? As the nation ponders this long-asked question, Brown and Milestone are undergoing therapy at the nearest hospital, where they will be treated for drug abuse such as hallucinogens. In the mean time, we should rethink the question of old age - Do you believe in magic?

     Harry read the article through twice in quick succession, his mind reeling. The person in the article sounded too much like Tonks to be a coincidence...

     Shoving his chair away from the table with a loud screech that made the Dursleys jump, Harry stood up and bolted out of the room and up the stairs. Flinging open his door, Harry ran over to Hedwig's empty cage. He shook the cage as though expecting her to be hiding, then ran to the window. Searching the skies for any sign of her, Harry felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. She was still out delivering the letter and now he had no way of communicating with the Order...

     Harry, feeling useless, fell back onto his bed. He felt like a waste of space, trapped up here in his room until Hedwig came back -

     Tap, tap, tap.

     Harry sat up immediately, eyes fixed on the window where a huge eagle owl was sitting, looking patiently over at Harry.

     Harry quickly sat up and opened the window, and the owl soared in and landed on top of Hedwig's cage. Harry ran over to it and took the letter off it's leg. The owl stayed inside, looking at Harry expectantly. Harry tore open the letter, which had the same red print on the back. Unfolding the letter, the first thing he noticed was the large white spaces in between and sometimes interrupting sentences. Confused, Harry sat on his bed and began to read.

    Dear Harry,

     We need you to stay at your aunt and uncle's house. We will be there in a few minutes to get you. Voldemort is on the move, we need you to stay put. It's very important that you do that or you will be in grave danger. We will see you in a few minutes. Happy birthday. Hope you are well. And please tell me you've been practicing Occlumency, we don't want Voldemort in your head again as it could end up killing you.

     Sincerely,

     Remus Lupin

     Harry stared. Surely there must have been a mistake - he looked through the envelope, hoping for an explanation - and he found one, though what was written made him boil with anger.

     Dear Mr. Potter,

     We are sorry to inform you that do to the content of your letter we were

     forced to remove some material that we found inappropriate. We apologize for

     the inconvenience and assure you that everything in the letter that was

     removed was of little importance.

     Hoping you are well,

     Marie Nearend

     Department of International

     Magical Cooperation

     Harry, appalled that the Ministry would actually take information, important information, out of his mail - his mail! - made him so angry he wanted to scream. Then, sudden realisation hit him: in a while, he could ask Lupin himself, and the Ministry wouldn't be able to stop him from talking to Harry, nor could he stop any one else. This knowledge gave him a sort of grim satisfaction; the Ministry couldn't do anything to stop Harry from actually speaking to his friends.

     Harry wished Fudge were here right now so he could laugh in his face. Harry felt so happy that Fudge had lost this battle that, far from being in the rage that Fudge so desperately wanted him in, he might as well have been laughing with glee, which would have been the first real laugh Harry had in a good while. Grinning to himself, Harry went over to his trunk and began to pack.

     Tutututututututututututut....

     Harry, listening carefully, looked out the window to find the source of the somewhat annoying noise, then nearly had a heart attack.

     Outside Number 4 was the most awful-sounding Ferrari Harry had ever seen, and inside at the wheel was none other than Mr. Weasley himself, with flaming red hair that seemed to match exactly the color of the car.

     Leaning out the window and laughing, Harry waved to Mr. Weasley. Rolling down the front window, Mr. Weasley looked up at Harry, who was sticking halfway out the second floor window and grinning.

     "Hello, Harry! Nice to see you again!" shouted Mr. Weasley merrily.

     Harry ran down the steps to see the Dursleys staring out the living room window with looks of mingled detestment and disgust on their faces. Harry, choosing to ignore them, streaked right past them and, much to the Dursleys horror, flung open the front door and beckoned Mr. Weasley inside.

     The unbearable noise faded until all that was left was the television in the kitchen. Dudley, upon seeing who was in the room, yelped and darted behind Aunt Petunia, which was a hard feat to accomplish since he was nearly three times the width of her. Mr. Weasley strode over the threshold and the Dursleys took a step back as one, all noticing at exactly the same time the wand in Mr. Weasley's right hand.

     "Harry, good to see you, happy sixteenth birthday!" Mr. Weasley exclaimed.

     "Oh, thanks, good to see you too," replied Harry distractedly, a little more interested in why the Weasleys, who had always been quite poor, had a shiny red Ferrari.

     Mr. Weasley, noticing Harry looking over his shoulder, smiled and said, "Oh, noticed that, have you?"

     "Yes, and -" Harry paused, not wanting to be rude, but then plunged on, "- where did you get the money to buy it?"

     Mr. Weasley did not look at all offended, rather, he seemed to have been waiting for Harry to ask this question. "It was a gift from the Order! They'd been saving up for weeks!" he exclaimed, beaming.

     Harry laughed at Mr. Weasley, who's only other car - a flying Ford Anglia - Harry had wrecked in his second year. Mr. Weasley had always had a strange fascination with muggles; for instance, he had a large collection of plugs and batteries.

     "Where's your trunk, Harry?" inquired Mr. Weasley, still smiling.

     "It's up in my room, but you don't have to -"

     "Nonsense, I'll get it. Say good-bye to your aunt and uncle, Harry."

     Harry watched Mr. Weasley wander up the stairs, staring at the unmoving photographs and lamps in awe. He looked over at his aunt and uncle. "Well, bye then," he said, and ran to the car.

     Jumping into the backseat, Harry remembered that when he got to the Weasleys, he would have to tell Ginny he couldn't ride with her on the Hogwarts Express. He tried to think of a way to tell her. He could just say, "Ginny, I don't want to ride the train with you." Or he could stage something with Ron and Hermione so as not to lay it on her so harshly...

     As a plan began to form inside his head, Mr. Weasley hopped in. He ran a hand over the dash and grinned.

     "Amazing, isn't it?" he said, still smiling as he backed out of the driveway.

     "Yeah, Mr. Weasley, I think it's really great that the Ministry's letting you get a car again," said Harry, and suddenly Mr. Weasley looked very uncomfortable.

     "Well, Harry, the thing is - they're not."

     "What do you mean? How do they not know?"

     "Well, I haven't told them, have I? No, it's a bit of a secret, so - if you wouldn't mind not telling anyone - "

     "Of course not, but . . . why do you have it if Fudge doesn't want you to?" asked Harry, wondering why Mr. Weasley would need a car so badly.

     "Harry, - I'm going to be honest, - I really don't give a d*** what Fudge does and does not want."

     Harry sat there, dumbfounded. "Mr. Weasley," he said cautiously, "I - " he paused and decided not to say anything against Mr. Weasley's opinion - hadn't he thought the same thing an hour ago? - and instead replied, "I think your absolutely right."

     Mr. Weasley turned his head around to look at Harry with a sort of fatherly pride, causing him to almost crash into the car in front. "Do you really?"

     "Fudge has been sorting through my mail," said Harry grudgingly. "I got a letter from Lupin a while ago; he had erased so many things I had no idea what was going on..."

     "I can tell you what's been going on," growled Mr. Weasley. "Absolutely nothing. Sure, it's in the papers, You-Know-Who's back, that sort of thing, but he's done nothing to stop it, nothing at all, really. Except," he added angrily, "make everyone panic. And it's given us mayhem at the Ministry - we can write this in the paper but that we can't tell them, Fudge forbids it."

     Harry thought for a moment. "Has Voldemort - killed - anyone?" Harry asked, noticing Mr. Weasley flinch.

     At these words, Mr. Weasley grew very solemn, and Harry was almost sorry he asked.

     "There have been . . . disappearances. But no actual reported deaths. Not yet, thank heavens."

     "But... if the Ministry isn't reporting them, how could there be any reported deaths - ever?"

     Mr. Weasley sighed. "I don't know, Harry, I really don't. But I have no power over Fudge, no real authority at all in my office, because most of the people there are blindly supporting what Fudge is doing."

     Harry sat there, thinking. Then he remembered what he really had wanted to ask...

     "Mr. Weasley, I saw Tonks in a muggle newspaper," he said, as they pulled into the Weasleys' garage.

     "Did you really? What did it say?" he said, seemingly only half-interested as they stepped out of the car.

     "There was a picture of this guy who saw her flying on a broom above his house," replied Harry, slightly confused at why Mr. Weasley wasn't astonished or surprised.

     "Well, I'll talk to her," said Mr. Weasley, smiling. If Harry was suspicious before, it was nothing to what he was feeling now.

     "Mr. Weasley, what's going - "

     "Go inside with Ron and Hermione, Harry, I'm sure they're dying to see you," said Mr. Weasley, and with that, he Disapparated, leaving Harry by himself.

     At that moment, however, the front door swung open and Hermione ran out to greet Harry.

     "Harry, I'm so glad you're here, it's been so dreadful without you, I've had positively no one to talk to, come on, Mrs. Weasley's making lunch, let's go eat - " she said, dragging him to the house.

     "O.K., Hermione, but you better start talking to Ron again, because you know I can't stand it - I mean, row after row after row - it's so annoying, really, I - "

     Hermione stopped and glared at Harry. "I'm not talking to Ron unless you convince him to stop making fun of me and Viktor. I can't stand it, whenever I mention his name, he always has to say something, I was just trying to tell him about my summer - "

     Harry quickly agreed. "Fine, I'll talk to him, - but I can't guarantee results," he said as they walked in to the delicious smell of hamburgers.

     "Oh, hello Harry," said Mrs. Weasley, not bothering to even look at him, and it took Harry a moment to remember why.

     "Oh, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said, not sure what to say. "Uh, I - wanted to thank you."

     "Really? What for?" she inquired, turning around to face him.

     "For preventing me from knowing too much last summer. I think - I think it's what my real Mum would've done for me, and I'm sorry for - for not realising it then," said Harry, knowing he had said exactly what she wanted to hear. Her eyes brimmed with tears, and then she began to cry.

     "Oh, Harry," she sobbed, coming over and giving him a motherly hug. Harry patted her on the back and she cried even louder.

     "I'm s-sorry, it's j-just that I f-felt so b-bad about last s-summer and I thought y-you would n-never forg-give me!" she cried between wails.

     "Mrs. Weasley, really, it's okay, seriously," said Harry, struggling to hold her up.

     "You're sure?" she said quietly, wiping her eyes and letting go of him.

     "Of course I am," said Harry, looking rather relieved that he was no longer carrying the heavy burden of Mrs. Weasley's anger - or her weight.

     "Such a lovely young man," she said, smiling. Then suddenly her face turned dark. "Not like my traitorous son, or should I say, sons. They don't even write," she whispered, more to herself than Harry and Hermione, who gave each other looks and quickly headed up the stairs.

     "That's where you are sleeping, like always," she said, pointing at Ron's room. "And that's where me and Ginny are," she added, motioning toward a door on the left. Harry was reminded of what he had to tell Ginny and decided to tell Hermione.

     "Hermione," he mouthed, beckoning her to her room. Hermione, looking confused, walked over to Harry, who had stopped just outside her door. Harry told her about Ginny's letter.

     "Well, what do you need my help for?" she said, bewildered.

     "Well, I can't tell it to her face, can I?"

     "I suppose not.... I guess we could - stage something, like, I could ask you to sit with me, and you could say you had other plans or whatever, then I would say it was really important, and we could do it loud enough so that Ginny could hear - "

     "Well, that's what I thought, I just wanted to know if you would help - "

     "Of course I would, Harry."

     Harry beamed. "Okay, well, that works fine then. Let's go."

     "What, now?" she asked, looking at Harry as though he'd lost his mind.

     "Yes, now. Come on." And before she could stop him, he was at Ginny's door.

     'You start,' he mouthed.

     Hermione nodded. "Hey, Harry, glad to see you've finally arrived. Listen, - would you mind sitting with me and Ron and Neville on the Hogwarts Express?" she said, loud and clear.

     "Well, the thing is," said Harry, and he heard a noise right on the other side of the door, "the thing is I already have some plans..."

     "Really, who with?" said Hermione, smilingly evilly at the horrified look on Harry's face and laughing silently.

     "I really don't think it's any of your business who I like, thank you," replied Harry through clenched teeth. He pointed at Hermione and traced his finger across his neck. He heard another noise, closer to the door this time.

     "Oh, but Harry, it's ever so important," said Hermione in a singsong voice. Harry thought about how fake Hermione was making this sound.

     "But - "

     "Oh, Harry, come on! Pleeeeaaase!!!"

     Heaving a huge fake sigh, Harry said, "Alright, if it's really important, - and it better be because I am missing the opportunity of a lifetime - then yes, I guess, I will sit with you." Harry thought for a second, then, just to mortify her for what she said earlier, added, "Now, if you don't mind, I need to say hello to your boyfriend," and marched up to Ron's room, leaving Hermione standing in front of Ginny's door, looking positively appalled.

     Harry knocked softly on Ron's door.

     "Go away," Ron grunted from somewhere inside.

     "Ron, it's me, Harry!"

     Harry heard Ron hop off his bed and run over to the door, flinging it open.

     "Harry, you're here! Excellent!" he exclaimed, letting Harry in. Harry noticed he immediately shut and locked the door.

     The last time Harry had been in Ron's room, the walls and ceiling were covered in moving posters of the Chudley Cannons, Ron's favorite Quidditch team. Now, however, the walls had pictures of very pretty witches in many different and revealing outfits. Harry looked questioningly at Ron, who smiled and said dreamily, "The Weird Sisters."

     Harry stared at him, slightly confused. "What about the Cannons?" he asked, but Ron pointed to the ceiling. Harry looked up to see a single orange poster among at least seven other Weird Sisters. "Why the sudden change?"

     "Well . . . I dunno, it's just . . . " Ron paused to stare at a poster right next to him, who was giggling and posing. "I guess - I figure - it's about time for me to start liking girls and stop arguing with them all the time!" said Ron in a high-pitched voice that sounded uncannily like Hermione's. "I swear, she acts like she's my mum sometimes, the things she says . . ." his voice trailed off as he began to examine a poster on the other side of the room.

     "That sounds an awful lot like a hint to me," said Harry seriously, falling back onto Ron's bed and trying hard not to look at the posters above him.

Then he remembered his promise to Hermione.

     "Ron?" Harry asked, propping himself up on his elbows.

     Ron tore his eyes away from the walls. "Yeah?"

     "Would you mind - could you tell me what you have against Viktor Krum?"

     Ron's eyes narrowed. "That loser? I dunno, I guess - I guess - ", he started, but then he was interrupted by a knock on the door. Ron, looking somewhat relieved, stood up and unlocked the door. Opening it, he was shocked to see Ginny standing in the doorway, Hermione right behind her. They shoved past him as though he didn't exist and rounded on Harry.

     "Get out of my room!" Ron exclaimed, waving his long arms like a windmill.

     Hermione pretended she couldn't hear him. "We - we being all three of us - need to talk," Hermione said, and it seemed as though they had rehearsed this because Ginny grabbed Harry's right arm and Hermione the left and they marched him out of the room, and Ron stared after them as they entered Ginny's room and slammed the door shut.

     "There's been a misunderstanding," Hermione started, looking as though she was finding it hard not to laugh.

     "What - did I say someth - "

     "Harry, I don't like you like that," said Ginny, and Harry opened his mouth to say something else, but Ginny cut him off again. "At all. The thing I was going to ask you is if you could ask Dean Thomas if he liked me - "

     " - and apparently you assumed she was asking you out - "

     " - and I wasn't - "

     " - so really it's all just a big misunderstanding on your part - "

     " - and you needn't worry about it at all," Ginny finished.

     Harry felt his face burn. Any other day it would have been a relief that Ginny didn't like Harry. He felt that he would give up a lot not to be Harry Potter right now. Embarrassed, Harry sat there, not sure exactly what to say, and Hermione and Ginny sat there, looking at him with concern.

     "Er - are you okay? We - we sorta thought you'd be - happy," said Hermione cautiously, watching Harry's reaction. "You know, because now you didn't have to - hurt Ginny's feelings."

     "Yeah," said Harry tonelessly, "yeah, I'm fine." Though really he wasn't; he knew his face was still red as a beet and he had really been convinced that Ginny had wanted to ask him out.

     "Are you sure?" said Ginny anxiously. Harry nodded and stood up.

     "Let's go fetch Ron so we can eat some lunch. I'm starving," was the only excuse he could think of to get out of Ginny's bedroom, and he bolted up to Ron's room and pounded on the door. He heard Hermione and Ginny still talking in their bedroom, and it made him a little angry, but he wasn't sure why.

     Why couldn't Ginny just like him? Moreover, why did she have to tell Hermione? It wouldn't have been so bad if she would have just kept her mouth shut and told Harry in private. Harry sighed. Why had he just immediately assumed Ginny liked him?

     Ron flung open the door. Harry grinned.

     "What took you? It's time for lunch, come on," said Harry, beckoning Ron to the kitchen.

     "Yeah, alright then," replied Ron, and Harry watched him lock his door before he shut it.

     "Er - why did you lock the door?" said Harry, bewildered.

     "To keep out - intruders," said Ron, looking pointedly at Hermione and Ginny, who were finally leaving their room. "Speaking of which, did you get Ginny's letter?"

     Harry started to reply, but then he saw Hermione waiting at the bottom of the stairs for them and immediately fell silent. He didn't feel much like discussing Ginny in front of her.

     Hermione pretended she didn't notice Ron. "Shall we go eat, then?" she asked politely, carefully avoiding Ron's eyes.

     The next few days of Harry's stay at the Burrow was very much scheduled; in the afternoon he talked and laughed with Ron, in the morning he did the same with Hermione. Mr. Weasley came by every now and then but was constantly at number 12, Grimmauld Place, presumably working with the Order.

     On Saturday morning, Harry awoke to hear downstairs very loud and noisy. Sitting up, he reached for his glasses on the bedside table. He looked around. Ron had already left, and he, Hedwig and Pigwidgeon were the only ones left in the room. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Harry left the room, yawning.

     Harry was shocked to find all the Weasleys, including Bill and Charlie, sitting around the table, talking loudly and cheerfully amongst themselves. They all looked up when Harry came in.

     "Well, if it isn't Sleeping Beauty," said Charlie, grinning and standing up to shake Harry's hand.

     "What are you all doing here?" said Harry, now shaking Bill's hand.

     "We were waiting for the Order," said Fred, "which we plan on joining." He and George exchanged identical evil grins. At this, Mrs. Weasley let out an audible gasp.

     "WHAT DO YOU MEAN, YOU'RE JOINING THE ORDER?!" she screamed, standing up and making everyone jump. She glared at Mr. Weasley. "What are they talking about? Surely - you didn't permit this?!"

     "Well, Molly, I thought -"

     "YOU THOUGHT? YOU THOUGHT WHAT? THAT I ENJOY WATCHING MY CHILDREN RISK THEIR LIVES?"

     Everyone was staring at her but she didn't seem to notice. She was fuming. She marched over to Mr. Weasley, and he cowered under her stare.

     "Well, they are of age, Molly dear, they can join if they want - "

     "BUT THEY CAN'T BECAUSE - BECAUSE - " Mrs. Weasley's voice broke and suddenly she burst into tears, "Oh, Arthur, it's not fair, first Charlie, then Bill, then P-Percy, now Fred and George, - "

     "Yeah, what's next, ickle Ronnikins?" laughed George, and everyone glared at him, because this made her cry even harder.

     At that moment, Kingsley Shacklebolt Apparated into the room with a loud crack!, and everyone whirled around to face him.

     "Arthur, we need you," he said in his deep voice. Mr. Weasley looked weakly at Mrs. Weasley.

     "Is it important, Kingsley, because we were - "

     "Arthur, Dedalus Diggle is dead."

     There was a very pregnant silence.

     "What do you mean?" said Mr. Weasley, who had gone very white. Everyone was staring at Kingsley in shock.

     "I mean, Arthur, that he died ten minutes ago because he was cornered by a Dementor," said Kingsley, and Bill and Charlie leapt to their feet.

     "Come off it, Kingsley," Bill said weakly. "Can't be Dementors. They're in Azkaban guarding - "

     "No, Bill, I'm afraid they are not," said Kingsley reverently. By this time, everyone was on their feet and staring at him in horror. Hermione and Harry exchanged petrified looks.

     "Do you mean to say," said Harry, and several people turned their heads to look at him, "that Voldemort - " a collective shudder went around the room, "has got them on his side?"

     They all looked back at Kingsley, who solemnly nodded. There was a moment's pause where no one moved, then Mr. Weasley strode over to Kingsley and said in an undertone, "Are you sure?"

     Kingsley looked down at his feet, and when he looked up everyone saw a tear in his eye. "I was there," he said quietly.

     Mr. Weasley looked at them all. "Bill, Charlie, and - Fred and George - let's go," he said, carefully avoiding Mrs. Weasley's eyes. There were five loud cracks and they had Disapparated, leaving Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Mrs. Weasley alone in the kitchen, staring at each other in fear.