Harry Potter and the Sacrifice of the Traitor

Another rainy day in Privet Drive was drawing to a close. The neat houses and gardens stood quietly as the drops spattered against the window panes and onto the tidy manicured lawns. The identical line of company cars were all getting a free car wash - not that this would stop their owners from going out and washing them when the rain stopped anyway. At a small window on the first floor of Number Four Privet Drive a tall, thin, black haired boy could be seen staring gloomily out at the rain. However, what would seem an ordinary scene was made rather unusual by the fact that the boy had a large snowy owl on his arm.

Harry Potter turned away from the window and unfolded the piece of parchment the owl had carried, putting it on the desk. He put her in her cage with an Owl Treat and sat down at the desk (a rather battered one which had decidedly wobbly legs since his cousin Dudley had kicked it in a tantrum). He stared eagerly at the piece of parchment in front of him, hoping it would bring some news. He found it was a letter from Hermione.

Dear Harry,

I hope you are well. I've been staying at Grimmauld Place, which now belongs to Malfoy's mother, and have been very busy helping to clear it out. I think we did a pretty thorough job, although Mrs Black's portrait is still stuck up on the wall. I don't suppose Mrs Malfoy will mind that though.

Afterwards I went to stay at The Burrow for a while - Percy is still living away from home, so at least we aren't too crowded over here. I think he has made it up with his family though, which is good. Mrs Weasley wrote to Professor Dumbledore last week to find out when you could come to The Burrow to join us, but he thinks it might be too dangerous as quite a few of the Order members are also staying here. Ron and I offered to come and stay with you to keep you company, but Professor Dumbledore didn't think your aunt and uncle would be very keen on that idea! He said he would try to make alternative arrangements, whatever that means.

Are you excited about getting your O.W.L. results? I certainly am - I've already started thinking about my N.E.W.Ts and have been reading some of Percy's old textbooks to help me decide which subjects I should take. It's very difficult as they are all (except Divination of course!) well worth studying. Ron doesn't seem to be as excited, I must admit - he gets quite grumpy whenever I try to show him some of the books, I can't understand why. I haven't yet decided which N.E.W.Ts to take. They all look very interesting but I don't think I'd be able to fit them all in. I do hope you and Ron get the grades you need to become Aurors, but there are lots of other worthwhile jobs you can do if not. I can show you some of the leaflets when we see you again.

Anyway, I promised Mrs Weasley I would go and help get dinner ready, so I had better go. I hope we will be able to see you soon,

Love,

Hermione

Harry grinned wryly at the thought of Hermione helping Ron with his N.E.W.T. choices, but skimmed quickly over the paragraph mentioning Grimmauld Place. He had been trying hard all summer not to think about Sirius or his house, as it was just too painful. Every time he did, a wave of misery and guilt would sweep over him until he could hardly bear it, and with the weather being so wet he couldn't even run away from his feelings by getting out of Privet Drive. He still woke up with nightmares too, but instead of Cedric in the graveyard, like last summer, he now saw Sirius falling backward through the Veil, over and over again, and each time he lunged to catch him, but felt his fingers just brush against Sirius' fingers before he disappeared through. He invariably woke up sweating and trembling violently from these dreams. So far Dudley hadn't mentioned hearing anything, but the sidelong glances he got sometimes made him feel that it was only a matter of time. At least he wasn't dreaming about corridors anymore, which made him hopeful that Voldemort might have given up trying to invade his dreams.

A shout came from downstairs. 'Boy! If you want any dinner you had better hurry up!' Harry sighed, and put the letter away under the loose floorboard where he kept most of his Hogwarts things. He went downstairs to find his aunt, uncle and cousin already at the table tucking in. The threats from Moody, Lupin and the others at the end of last year had encouraged the Dursleys to feed him a bit better over the summer, so although he was still thin, he wasn't as skinny and pale as he used to be. He also seemed to be growing all the time, so it was just as well he was getting decent meals. His clothes had also improved - Aunt Petunia had grudgingly bought him some second hand shirts and jeans, so at least his clothes were now only a size or so too big, rather than four or five sizes as in the past. He sat down hastily and helped himself to the shepherds pie without saying anything.

At the end of the meal Uncle Vernon looked at him and barked 'We're going on holiday at the weekend, boy, and you needn't think you're coming with us.'

'Like I would have wanted to,' Harry grumbled quietly.

'I heard that! You'll be staying at Mrs Figg's for the rest of the holidays, and you will make no mention of your abnormality to her or anyone else, do you hear me?' snarled his uncle.

'Yes Uncle Vernon,' sighed Harry, trying hard not to grin. His uncle still didn't know that Mrs Figg, far from being merely a batty old friend of the family who hated Harry, was actually a Squib who Dumbledore had asked to help look after him.

'Take that smirk of your face and get back upstairs and start packing!' snapped Uncle Vernon.

Harry did as he was told, and took the opportunity to write a quick letter to Ron and Hermione telling them that he was getting out of Privet Drive in a few days. He suggested that they might be able to visit him at Mrs Figg's, if Dumbledore thought it was safe from them to do so, trying not to sound too bitter at having to get approval to see his friends.

He made a start on sorting his things out, then went back downstairs and into the lounge, trying to ignore the glares from his aunt and uncle and the look of mingled fear and loathing from his cousin.

'Just what do you think you're doing?' demanded Aunt Petunia. 'I hope you're not expecting a cosy family chat or something?'

'Very likely,' said Harry sarcastically. 'I wanted to watch the news, just in case anything unusual has happened.'

'Anything unusual seems to always happen around here, thanks to you, boy,' snapped Uncle Vernon. 'I hope we're not going to get more of those Dementoids all over our neighbourhood again, after you and your criminal friends no doubt.'

Harry swallowed his anger and said nothing while the news was on. The main items seemed to be the continuing arguments between the Prime Minister and his Chancellor, followed by the troubles in the Middle East. He supposed it was unlikely Voldemort had much to do with either of these things. Everything seemed to have gone quiet again - at least there were no strange killings or disappearances being reported on the Muggle news or in the Daily Prophet. It was possible that Voldemort was still recovering from the duel with Dumbledore, Harry thought, and then tried to quickly forget about that night at the Ministry of Magic. When the news changed to the latest local sensation of a flooded restaurant, he got up, nodded curtly to his aunt and uncle, and climbed wearily up the stairs.

Rather to his surprise, Dudley was waiting for him on the landing, looking strangely triumphant. He had been pretty careful around Harry so far, perhaps remembering what had happened the last summer when he had taunted Harry, but apparently he could no longer resist.

'Guess where we're going for our holidays,' he said gleefully.

'I couldn't care less,' said Harry wearily. 'Get out of the way, you're blocking the whole doorway.'

'We're going on a month long cruise, on a luxury liner, travelling first class,' bragged Dudley.

'Well, I hope you don't sink it with all that flab you're carrying around,' said Harry.

Dudley scowled at him. 'I'll have you know this is pure muscle, you skinny runt,' he snapped angrily.

This wasn't entirely true. Although Dudley was still doing very well in his boxing tournaments, he had slipped a bit from his diet, and a few of the extra chins had come back to wobble under his real one.

'Oh, I see, Big D,' smirked Harry. 'All that flab on your face is from when they can't stand the sight of you anymore, so they try to punch your nose in, and your face swells up with bruises or something, is it?'

Dudley went purple with rage, reminding Harry uncannily of Uncle Vernon. He obviously didn't want to start anything noisy enough to drag his parents upstairs though, as he controlled himself with an effort. He grabbed Harry by the arm and dragged him to the door of his own room.

'Look at that picture,' he snarled, pointing at a photograph of himself with a brown haired girl, which was standing on his desk. 'If people can't stand the sight of me, then why have I got one of the prettiest girls at my school for my girlfriend?'

'That's obviously not saying much,' said Harry, although he was rather startled at this new revelation. He didn't think Aunt Petunia knew about this girl or she would be either planning a wedding, or tearfully insisting the girl wasn't good enough for her 'Ickle Diddykins', he didn't know which.

'Aren't you going to miss her on your posh cruise then?' he said. 'I expect you'll be all sad and lonely without her. Or will Mummykins dry your tears for you?'

'Shut up! For your information she'll be coming with us - her father is a very good friend of my Dad' snapped Dudley. 'I'll be sure to think of you, all alone with Mrs Figg and her cats, while we're sunning ourselves and seeing all the sights. I bet you've never had a girlfriend anyway.'

'That's all you know' said Harry. 'Not that it's any of your business, but I had a girlfriend and kissed her last year, and the year before that when we had a ball, the girls were falling over themselves to ask me to go.' While strictly true, he glossed over the fact that he hadn't wanted to go with any of those girls, and that the one girl he had wanted to ask him out, Cho, had gone with Cedric.

Dudley looked rather put out that Harry had had a girlfriend, and tried to come up with something more insulting. Before he could though, Harry, tired of this stupid discussion had pulled away from him, gone into his room, and slammed the door angrily.

A roar came from downstairs. 'What do you think you're playing at, boy! If you start making that awful racket with bangs and owls screeching and things, we will reconsider our generosity in allowing you to stay under our roof!'

Harry snorted quietly; he knew this was an empty threat. Between Dumbledore's threat to Aunt Petunia, and the Aurors' threats to Uncle Vernon last year, there wasn't much chance that Uncle Vernon would dare throw him out. He didn't really want to test this though, not when the end was in sight and he would soon be at Mrs Figgs. He was sure she would allow him some contact to his friends, and at any rate she wouldn't mind Hedwig swooping in through the window with a dead mouse in her beak. The last time Aunt Petunia had been in his room, telling him off for leaving a muddy footprint on her carpet, and this had happened, she had run screaming from the room and he had ended up with the leftovers for his supper that night.

He sat down at his desk, found some parchment and a quill, and wrote a reply to Hermione's letter.

Dear Hermione, and Ron,

I'm glad to hear you are having a nice holiday. Mine is better than it used to be in this place, but I still can't wait to get out of here. My aunt and uncle are sending me to Mrs Figgs at the weekend, but they don't know she's a Squib, so they think they're punishing me while they go off on some fancy cruise. I'm going to ask her if you can come over and visit, if I can't get out and join you at the Burrow soon.

Write soon,

Harry

The next day or so went by without much incident. Harry continued to avoid the others as much as possible, except when he watched the news. They in turn ignored him, except for banging down a plateful of food in front of him at mealtimes, and scowling angrily when he came into the room to watch the news with them. The rain continued to fall most of the time so he couldn't get out much, as Aunt Petunia's so-called generosity with new clothing had not extended to raincoats or umbrellas.

The day before the Dursleys were due to leave for their holiday, Harry walked back into his room after supper and was startled to find a small fluffy object zooming around his room, hooting cheerfully. After squinting at the blur he realised it was Pigwidgeon, Ron's tiny owl. He caught him after a few attempts, told him firmly to shut up, and removed the note attached to his leg. The little owl immediately zoomed off out of the window, not waiting for any reply, while Harry looked curiously at the piece of parchment. He hadn't been expecting any more letters just yet, as Hermione's had only just arrived a couple of days ago, and his own letter wouldn't have reached them yet. However, he unfolded the note eagerly and read it.

Dear Harry,

Hope you're doing alright and the Muggles aren't mistreating you - just let us know if they are and we'll come and get you at once! I know Hermione just wrote to you, but we've had some good news since then. Dumbledore says that you're going to stay with Mrs Figg (don't ask me how he knows, he finds everything out!) and he has suggested a better idea. He wants to get me and Hermione out of the house, he feels that it's too much of a target to have underage wizards and witches under the same roof as so many Order members. Ginny is visiting Dean (if he lays a finger on her I will pulverise him, mate!) so it's just the two of us. When you get to Mrs Figg's we'll be able to get in touch with you and tell you the plan, but it sounds like fun!

Can you believe Hermione is already nagging me about working for my N.E.W.T.s?? I haven't even got the O.W.L. results, but she just won't let up. At least once you're here she will be able to nag you as well! I don't know what I see in her why we are friends some times, she's impossible!

Anyway it's time to eat, I'd better go. See you soon mate,

Ron

Harry grinned happily upon finishing reading this letter. He definitely preferred Mrs Figg to the Dursleys, but this plan that seemed to involve spending time with his two best friends was bound to be much better than spending the rest of the holidays with her and her cats. He looked thoughtfully at the comment Ron had scribbled out - he had wondered if Ron was feeling more than friendship for Hermione back when he had got so jealous about her going to the Yule Ball with Krum. It looked like there might be something going on there still. He just hoped that they wouldn't forget about him if they did get together.

He somehow found himself thinking about the prophecy again and his smile faded - it had predicted that either he or Voldemort would have to kill the other. Perhaps they won't want to be friends with a murderer, he thought moodily, if I even survive that is. He was still angry with Dumbledore for hiding so much from him, but he had to admit he had been much happier before, without the weight of this hanging over him. It was bad enough being famous and having to deal with all the guilt of Sirus' death, without worrying about prophecies as well.

Harry shook himself and forced his mind away from the subject. He got undressed and climbed into bed, and read a few articles in the latest edition of the Quibbler. Luna had sent him a copy at the beginning of the holidays, along with a strange note about possibly sighting a Crumple Horned Snorkack, which still made him smile when he thought of it. It wasn't the most exciting of magazines, or indeed the most believable collection of articles. However, it passed the time and took his mind off unpleasant thoughts, and it made him feel like he was still part of the wizarding world. By the time he'd read the article about whether the next Quidditch World Cup was going to use Charmed snooker balls instead of a Snitch, he was yawning widely. He took off his glasses and let the magazine drop to the floor, before falling into a deep sleep.