In Dreams

Chapter One

A jet black snake was dancing in the fire. Its skin glittered poisonously as it swayed back and forth, fixing Harry with its hypnotic glare. He watched, transfixed, as it started to burn. The tip of its long body had caught alight, and gradually the whole creature was crumbling away into ashes. He walked tentatively towards it, his eyes fixed on the glowing remains of the creature. Without warning, a phoenix sprung from the very heart of the fire, flying up into the darkness and out of sight...

He found himself racing through the dungeons, desperate to reach his destination. He was late for Potions, and he really didn't want to have to deal with an angry Snape just then. The only problem was that it was incredibly dark, and someone had decided to hang heavy tapestries and curtains from the ceiling, making it almost impossible for him to get through. He ducked around them, under them, even cut them down with a severing charm, but no matter how hard he tried, he didn't seem to be getting any nearer to the classroom.

He ran around a corner, and there it was. At the other end of the corridor was the classroom door, standing defiantly closed. He sped towards it, threw it open, and went inside.

"I'm sorry I'm late, Professor," he said, feeling very out of breath from the long run. Since when was the Potions classroom so far away from the Entrance Hall anyway? And then he realised that he wasn't in his Potions classroom.

He was standing at the top of what seemed to be row after row of tiered stone benches, leading down into a large pit. Looking down, he saw at the bottom a raised stone platform, with a crumbling archway standing proudly in the centre. He was in the Death Chamber. But how had he got there?

Looking around in confusion, he realised that he wasn't alone. He couldn't see anyone else about, but he could hear their voices, whispering to him. The source of the voices seemed to be somewhere down in the pit. Straining his ears to make out what they were saying, he took a few steps closer.

"Harry, I don't like this..."

He spun around. Standing a few paces behind him was Ginny, her eyes wide with fear.

"I didn't force you to come."

The words were out of his mouth before he had even thought about them. He certainly didn't understand what they meant, but Ginny seemed to, as she just nodded at him, looking down at her feet.

Then another voice spoke. "Harry..."

He jumped and turned to look back at the dais. Someone had called his name, but he couldn't see the forms of any people below. Unless...

He started towards the veil, which was fluttering gently in a non existent breeze. He could hear the whispering again, and it drew his feet closer, until he was standing right in front of the dais. Not really understanding why, he placed one foot on it, and stepped up.

"Harry, what are you doing?"

He ignored her. He could see the veil clearly now, and there was someone standing behind it. He could see their shadow through the tattered cloth, and he needed to know who it was.

"Harry!"

Then, as the tendrils of recognition sparked in his mind, he felt himself being dragged away...

"Harry!"

He opened his eyes.

The first thing he saw was a long nose covered with freckles. Blinking rapidly, trying to make out what he was seeing, he finally recognised the blurry outline of his best friend, leaning over him.

"Finally!" Ron said, taking a step back. "I thought you were never gonna wake up."

"What the hell are you doing?" he asked irritably, sitting up and reaching for his glasses. Ron couldn't have picked a worse time. He had been about to discover who, or what, was behind the veil, and now he would never know.

"I was trying to wake you up."

"Why?" Harry asked. Ron was usually the one lying in bed until all hours of the day. He more than anyone should have appreciated the value of a good lie in.

"Because it's past eleven o'clock, mate, and mum wants you down for your birthday breakfast sometime before lunch."

And then he remembered. It was his birthday, and, for the first time in fifteen years, he would be spending it with people who actually cared. For once, he might even enjoy it.

"I'd give you your present now, but mum won't let me. She keeps telling me to 'save it for his party'." Ron pulled a face. "I told her you probably want to open 'em as soon as possible, but she wouldn't listen. You know how she is when she sets her mind to something."

Harry just looked at him. "I'm having a party?"

"Oh, yeah. It was supposed to be a surprise. Sorry," Ron said, looking sheepish. "You don't mind, do you?"

Mind? Of course he didn't mind. For the first time in his life, Harry Potter was going to have a birthday party. Why would he mind about that?

"No," he said.

"Okay, then," Ron answered, looking relieved. "Just make sure you look surprised when mum tells you about it. I really don't want her yelling at me for ruining it."

Harry nodded, and Ron started off out of the room. He was nearly out of the door, when he turned back.

"Oh, and happy birthday, Harry," he said, grinning.

Harry grinned back.

A few minutes later, he entered the kitchen to find it full of people. The whole Weasley clan, sans Mr Weasley, was sitting around the kitchen table, and, as a result, everyone looked very cramped, but this didn't stop the smiles and cheers that came forth once they spotted him in the doorway.

"He's here, mum!" George yelled at his mother, who was standing by the cooker, adding the finishing touches to whatever she had prepared. At George's words, however, she turned around and beamed at Harry.

"Oh, you're up, Harry dear. We were starting to wonder if you were planning on leaving your room at all today! Breakfast will be all ready in a minute, so just sit yourself down."

Harry did as she asked and ended up in the spare seat between Ron and Ginny.

"Can we eat now then?" Fred called across the room. "I'm starving." Then, he turned to Harry and added, "She wouldn't let us eat until you came down. Something about it being 'your special day'."

"Stop complaining, Fred!" Mrs Weasley said, as she came across and started to pile food onto Harry's plate. "Happy Birthday, dear," she added brightly, once she had finished.

"Thanks," he said, looking down at the food Mrs Weasley had served him. She tended to give him too much, and there was twice as much on his plate than there normally was. Sausages, eggs, bacon, tomatoes, toast, beans, and some kind of meat which Harry didn't recognise, although he decided it was probably safer not to ask what it was.

"We'll give you your presents this evening," Mrs Weasley continued, as she proceeded to put a much smaller amount of food on each of her own children's plates. "We've got something special planned."

"Really?" Harry asked, arranging his face in what he hoped was a surprised and intrigued expression.

"Yes, dear, but I won't say any more now. I don't want to ruin the surprise."

Harry nodded, and started to eat his breakfast. It was strange to have people treating his birthday as something special, instead of just yet another day on the calendar. Once again, he felt enormous gratitude for the fact that he could spend his summer with the Weasleys. Nothing could compare with that.

So far, Harry was having the best birthday he had ever had. After breakfast, he had gone outside to play Quidditch with Ron, Ginny, and the Twins. They did this every day, but usually it was used as an opportunity for them to train Ginny up to be a Chaser for the team next year. That day, however, they had had permission from Mrs Weasley to set up a proper game, complete with hoops hung from tree branches for goals, a football taken from Mr Weasley's shed for a Quaffle, and cooking apples for Bludgers. They formed two teams; Harry and Fred on one side, and Ron and Ginny on the other, with George acting as the Beater for both sides. Harry had taken the position of Chaser, and it had been a violent game, mainly because the twins had spent most of their time throwing the apples at people and trying to get them to explode on impact, causing the victim to be covered in juice and little bits of pulp, as opposed to actually playing the game.

In the end, Mrs Weasley called them all down for lunch, leaving Ron's team as the victors. Fred seemed to blame Harry for this mishap, mainly because, no matter how good a Seeker he was, Harry's aim with the Quaffle was poor at best, and he had struggled to get a single goal through. Harry tried to argue that they might have won if the other member of his team had put up a stronger defense as Keeper, but Fred would have none of it. He ended up being suitably punished for his poor playing by being pelted with the remaining rotten apples.

Mrs Weasley was appalled when she saw him, and sent him off to have a shower, but even upstairs he could hear her yells.

"What were you thinking, throwing those things at him? If I knew you were going to use Harry as target practice I would never have allowed you to play! Never! He was covered, completely covered! And just look at your sister. Do you have any idea how long it's going to take to get that apple out of her hair? Do you? I didn't think so!"

Now Harry was walking back from a trip to the 'nearby' shop with Ron, after Mrs Weasley had asked them to go and buy some milk for her. Obviously, her concern for Harry's safety had been outweighed by her desire to keep his party a surprise. Harry hadn't had the heart to tell her that he already knew all about it.

But now he sincerely wished that he had just told her outright, for on their way back from this 'nearby' shop, which was three miles down the road, Ron had started ranting again, and, as usual, his topic was Hermione.

"I just can't believe that they're letting her stay with her parents. It's too dangerous. Don't they see that?"

Harry gave him the obligatory shrug as they continued walking. He cared about Hermione, he really did, but he also knew that she could take care of herself.

"She just wanted to see her family, Ron. She hasn't really spent any time with them for years."

"Then why now?" Ron asked, obviously annoyed that Harry had tried to insert some logic into his ramblings. "She could have visited them at any time over the last few years, so why didn't she do so then? It's too dangerous now."

"It's always too dangerous," Harry said, getting seriously tired of all this moaning.

"Exactly!" Ron said, seeming to think that Harry had finally come around to his point of view. "It's far too dangerous. Why isn't she staying here where there are plenty of other wizards to keep her safe?"

"She might not even be at risk," Harry reasoned.

"What do you mean 'she might not be at risk'? She's your Muggle-Born best friend! Of course she's at risk."

Harry waited for Ron to go right back to the beginning of the argument, just like he always did, but was surprised to find that he simply fell silent. It took him a moment to realise that Ron wasn't with him at all.

Looking back, he saw his friend standing a few paces behind him, staring at a nearby tree, but not really seeing it at all.

Walking closer, Harry asked, "Ron? Are you all right?"

His jaw was clenched, and he was still staring determinedly at the tree. "I just don't want her to get hurt, is all."

"Neither do I."

Looking at his friend like that, everything started to make sense. But Harry didn't want to ruin Ron's perception that he had succeeded in concealing what he was really thinking, so he remained quiet.

They both stood there for a moment longer, and then Ron seemed to snap out of it. Shaking himself a little, he said, "Come on. Mum'll be worried if we don't get back soon." Then he turned and set off up the road, leaving Harry to catch up with him.

It was only another five minutes before they reached the Burrow, but instead of the banners and balloons that Harry had expected, the house was completely still. Wondering what was going on, he went in through the front door and looked around. There was nobody there.

"Where is everybody?" Harry asked.

"Dunno, mate," Ron said, frowning slightly.

They went through into the kitchen, but found that no one was there either. Ron placed the milk on the counter, and then looked around, scratching his head.

"Where the hell is everybody?" he asked, and Harry could see that he was genuinely confused. Ron wasn't that good an actor, and anyway, there was no way he would put up such an effort to keep things secret when Harry already knew about it. They were both as clueless as each other.

"Maybe they're out in the garden?" Harry suggested. He walked to the backdoor, turned the handle, and pushed it open.

"SURPRISE!"

Harry just blinked at them. What he saw at that moment was not what he had expected at all. He had expected. . . well, he wasn't sure what he had expected, really. He had never had a surprise party before. He had thought that there might be some balloons, a few presents, maybe a cake, but nothing had prepared him for this.

A long table dominated the garden, laid out with a massive variety of foods, covering it from one end to the other. There was another, smaller table to the side, which was heaped with presents. Balloons were fastened to every tree, and a banner was suspended magically in the air, with the words 'Happy Birthday Harry' written on it in large red letters that flashed alternatively. But what surprised Harry the most were the people standing there. He had thought that it would only be him and the Weasleys, but he had been wrong. In amongst the flurry of red hair stood Remus Lupin, looking tired and shabby but extremely happy, Tonks, her hair a vivid shade of blue, Mad Eye Moody, who was looking around the place suspiciously, as though they would be attacked at any moment, Mrs Figg, and Hermione.

It was Hermione who pulled him out of his surprised trance. Grinning madly, she hurried towards him and enveloped him in a huge hug.

"Happy birthday, Harry!" she said. Spotting Ron over his shoulder, she stepped back.

Harry had expected Ron to go mad when he finally saw her safe and sound. Instead, he just stood there, smiling at her awkwardly.

"Hi, Hermione."

"Hi," she replied, going towards him and pulling him into a hug as well. It was very brief, and then she stood up on tiptoe, kissed him on the cheek, and, blushing, turned back to Harry.

"I've missed you two so much. I mean, I know it was only a month, but it's so lonely at home. My mum and dad are great, but they don't really understand. I'm glad that they don't know about stuff, but I wish they knew why I'm so out of it sometimes."

This seemed to pull Ron out of his trance quite well. "You can stay here," he suggested enthusiastically, but Hermione just shook her head.

"I have to stay with them. I haven't spent any time with them for years, and I don't want them worrying."

Ron opened his mouth again, probably to say that if she didn't stay then he would worry too, but before he could say another word, Mrs Weasley bustled over.

"I'm so glad you're here, Harry," she said, beaming at him. "I was started to get worried."

Harry nodded, and said, "This is great, Mrs Weasley."

"Oh, it's nothing dear," she said dismissively. "We all wanted to give you a good party. It's not every day that you turn sixteen, now, is it? Arthur wanted to be here as well, but you know how things are at the Ministry these days. He couldn't just take the evening off for a party."

Harry nodded again, understanding completely. Ever since the Ministry had accepted that Voldemort was back, things had been in chaos. All the time Harry had been at the Burrow, Mr Weasley had left for work early and come home extremely late. If what he had heard from Ron was true, then he was being made to do every other job than his own, due to the serious lack of organisation. It seemed to Harry that the whole Ministry was rebelling over what had happened.

"Well, are we going to stand here all night or do you want something to eat?" Mrs Weasley asked cheerfully.

Harry's stomach answered for him, rumbling with hunger. Laughing, they walked back towards the table where, after all the normal birthday greetings, they sat down for their meal.

Harry found himself sat between Lupin and Tonks, which suited him fine. Tonks talked animatedly to him for a while about the Weird Sisters concert she had been to, with Lupin just smiling and nodding politely in the background. Then she turned to Ginny and Hermione, who were sitting opposite, and starting gossiping to them instead.

Once she was suitably occupied, Lupin turned to him. "How are you doing, Harry?" he asked, in a way that showed that he wanted the truth.

"I'm okay," Harry said. Lupin gave him an incredulous look. "I am," he insisted. "I mean, I'm not my best, but I'm doing okay."

Lupin still didn't look like he believed him, but he nodded anyway.

"Well, if you need anything..."

"I know," Harry said. He was grateful for his old professor's concern.

It was only then that it hit him. Lupin had lost Sirius too. He might not be showing his pain in such an outward way as Harry did, but if he looked closely enough, it was as clear as day. And then Harry understood Lupin's need to support him. He was the only person Lupin had left. All his friends were gone, and, as far as Harry knew, he didn't have any relatives to speak of. The only person he was left with was his best friend's son. How must that make him feel? For the first time since Sirius's death, Harry felt grateful. At least he still had his friends. He had all these people, all gathered around the table to celebrate his birthday. He hadn't even realised it until he had seen them all, standing there. There were a lot of people who cared about him. Who was there left to care about Lupin? It was a painful thought.

He felt like he should say something to him, to let him know how much he appreciated him, but he didn't know if there was anything he could say, anything that wouldn't make him feel like an idiot, at least. In the end, he opted for the simplest thing.

"Thank you."

Lupin looked at him in astonishment. "Whatever for?"

Suddenly Harry regretted saying anything at all. "You know, for helping me. In my third year. I don't know if I'd have got through it without your help," he said hurriedly. Then he added softly, "I didn't want you to leave."

"I know," Lupin replied heavily.

"And," Harry ventured on, "thanks for looking after Sirius last year. I know he was feeling kind of depressed being locked up in Grimmauld Place, and I think you made it easier for him. So thank you for that too."

Lupin just nodded sadly.

After they had finished eating, Mrs Weasley went into the house and emerged a few minutes later clutching a huge cake.

"Happy birthday, Harry," she said, placing it carefully down in front of him.

Harry just stared at it, amazed. He had received birthday cakes before, but this was special. There were 16 candles on the top, and it seemed to him that it had been made especially for the occasion. He still couldn't believe that anyone would go to so much trouble just for him.

Noticing he was looking at it in disbelief, Mrs Weasley smiled. "I made it while you were out."

"I helped!" chirped in Tonks, who was looking immensely pleased with the fact.

"Yes," Mrs Weasley said shortly. She did not look so pleased.

"Thanks," was all Harry could manage to say.

It felt immensely special to him to blow out the candles while everyone sang Happy Birthday, including Fred and George with their more vulgar version. Mrs Weasley looked at them in disapproval, but must have decided not to comment.

Once the cake had been eaten, Ginny asked enthusiastically, "Is it time for the presents, then?"

Mrs Weasley nodded her consent, and there was an instant scramble as everyone raced to grab what they had bought for him.

"Here, mate, open mine first," Ron said, shoving a badly wrapped package into his hands.

Harry grinned at him, and then tore the paper off to see what was inside. It was a mirror.

Raising an eyebrow at his friend, he said, "Thanks. It'll come in handy next time I need to check my makeup between lessons."

"No, it's not what you think," Ron said. "It's a two way mirror. It's really cool! I have the other one. You just say who you want to talk to and..."

But Harry didn't hear any more. He just stared at the mirror in his hands in disbelief. He still had the shattered pieces of the mirror Sirius had given him in his trunk. In fact, he hadn't touched them since the night he had discovered it, almost afraid of moving them. In that fit of anger, he had destroyed every chance he had had of talking to Sirius again. Would this mirror allow him to access other mirrors? Would he be able to talk to Sirius through it? No, he realised. He had already tried that. Using a different mirror wouldn't change the fact that Sirius hadn't had his one on him when he had gone through the veil.

And that brought another painful thought crashing down on Harry, one that hadn't even occurred to him before. After everything they had gone through to find out if Sirius was safe before setting off for the Department of Mysteries that night, he had had the perfect thing to check on him all the time. If he hadn't have forgotten about it, Sirius would still be alive.

And that was not a comforting thought.

He suddenly realised that Ron had stopped speaking. Pushing his feelings to the side, he said, "Thanks, Ron. That's great. That's really... great."

Luckily, the rest of his presents didn't have quite the emotional impact that Ron's had. Mr and Mrs Weasley gave him a large box of fudge and a brand new jumper, red this time, with a large yellow H in the middle. Fred and George gave him a large box of their products, including plenty of Skiving Snackboxes for when Sixth Year got too much to handle. Tonks gave him a mass of chocolate frogs, and Mad Eye gave him a small metal disk, which hummed strangely in his hand.

"It's a Danger Detector," he told him. "It glows hot if there's something dangerous in the area, see, so if you feel your pocket burning, you know to get out of there sharpish."

Mrs Figg gave him a large pile of her homemade cookies, which Harry graciously accepted, but planned to throw out at the first opportunity. Ginny watched nervously as Harry unwrapped her present, biting her lip as he ripped off the wrapping to find a large owl cage inside.

"It's just... Hedwig's cage is getting a bit old, and it's a little rusty, and I thought she might like a new one," she explained. "I even got Dad to put a charm on it so that it was self cleaning, that way you won't have to worry about cleaning it out. I thought you might like that," she finished lamely.

"I love it," Harry said enthusiastically. "Thanks, Ginny."

Hermione gave him a very large and heavy present which of course turned out to be a book. Maybe what the present was didn't surprise him, but the title certainly did.

"Curses and Counter Curses?" he asked, staring down at the book which had tempted him so much during his first visit to Diagon Alley.

"I thought I might come in handy," she replied with a serious expression on her face. Harry had to admit that she was right. Gone were the days when he had needed this book to learn something to use on Dudley. Now it was the sort of thing which could be useful in a life or death situation, and Harry had had too many of those of late to remain unprepared.

The biggest surprise of all was the gift he received off Lupin. He handed him a rather small, but heavy, present with a secretive look on his face. Harry tore off the wrapping to find a square wooden box inside.

"Be careful when you open it," Lupin warned.

Wondering what it could possibly be, Harry pulled back the lid. It was lucky that Lupin had warned him. The minute the box was opened, something shiny and golden made a bid for freedom.

It wasn't until Harry snatched it out of the air that he realised what it was. It was a Snitch.

He looked at Lupin in amazement. "Thank you," he said.

Lupin just smiled at him. "Look closer."

Frowning slightly, Harry peered at it, and discovered the letters JP inscribed on the bottom.

He couldn't express in words how holding his father's Snitch made him feel, but he could tell from Lupin's face that he understood.

The majority of the people had already gone home. Tonks and Mad Eye had escorted Hermione on the Knight Bus, deeming the Floo network unsafe for her as it was easy to trace. This had set Ron off into another rant about how even Mad Eye thought that Hermione was in danger, and yet he was still letting her stay at her parents' house unprotected. Harry had reminded him that Mad Eye tended to think that everyone was in danger, but that hadn't seemed to calm him down.

Now only Lupin was left to go.

"Thanks again for the gift," Harry said awkwardly. "It's really great."

"Well," Lupin said, "it's been sitting in a draw in my house for years now. I'd forgotten I even had it until I moved into Grimmauld Place, and had to sort through all my things. I'm hopeless at Quidditch, so I never got any use out of it. Besides, I think James would have wanted you to have it."

He shook Harry's hand, and then said, "I'm looking forward to your visit next week. Hopefully I can get the place tidied up a bit beforehand. See you then."

Harry opened his mouth to respond, but before he had the chance, Lupin Apparated away with a crack.

"What did he mean 'I'm looking forward to your visit'?" he asked Mrs Weasley, who had been watching the whole exchange.

"I don't think now is the time to talk about it, dear."

Looking at her face, he knew something was wrong. "No, I want to know now," he said firmly.

Mrs Weasley looked very flustered. "Well," she said finally, "Dumbledore seems to think that it would be best if we all moved back to Grimmauld Place."

"What?"

Everyone in the garden went still.

"We're moving back to the headquarters?" Ron asked, eyeing Harry wearily.

"Yes," Mrs Weasley said briskly. "Dumbledore has decided that it just isn't safe here anymore."

"But there are wards..."

"Those wards couldn't prevent a full scale attack, and you know it, Ronald Weasley!"

Harry just looked at her. "So he wants me to go back to Grimmauld Place?"

"Yes, dear."

Harry took a moment to chew this over in his mind. Eventually, he asked, "Then why did I come here in the first place? Why didn't I just go straight there."

"Dumbledore wanted to give you some time to adjust to the idea."

"Right. So when did he make this decision, the one that I was supposed to have time to adjust to?"

Mrs Weasley blushed. She seemed to be trying to decided whether or not it was worth telling him the truth. "A few days before you came here."

"So when were you actually planning on telling me that I was going to be living in my dead godfather's house? Or were you even going to tell me at all?"

"Of course we were going to tell you..."

"Then why didn't you?"

Mrs Weasley sighed. "I just thought, and Arthur agreed with me, that you should be allowed some happiness here before we told you about the move."

"Lupin seemed to think I already knew."

"Yes, well, we were supposed to tell you the first day you came here."

Harry stared at her. "Right." Then, without another word, he turned and stormed up to his room.

Once inside, he tried to let out some of his anger by kicking his bedside table, but all it achieved was a throbbing pain in his foot. He was sick of this. Sick of something bad happening every time he felt truly happy, sick of never being allowed just one day where he didn't have anything to worry about.

He had been having the best birthday of his life, and now it was one of the worst. Now he would have to go back to Grimmauld Place, a place ripe with memories of his godfather. How was he supposed to move on when everything was dragging him backwards, keeping his mind firmly placed in the past? How could Harry see the portrait of Sirius's mother without thinking about how horrible his childhood had been? How could he look at Buckbeak, lounging in one of the upper rooms, without remembering the night they turned back time to save his life? How could he stay in the house without realising that those were the walls that drove Sirius outside, making him so desperate to escape from them that he put his life at risk to do so?

And now, he was being forced to go there. He'd almost rather go back to the Dursleys'. At least there, Harry had a chance to get some peace. He would be trapped in Grimmauld Place for the rest of the summer now, unable to escape from the choking realism of his godfather's death.

Happy birthday, Harry, he thought bitterly. Happy Birthday indeed.