In His Eyes

In His Eyes Chapter 04

But that night, no matter how hard he tried, Harry just couldn't sleep. He got up feeling tired and grouchy, but he put on his dressing gown, and went downstairs, to the kitchen. He could smell burnt toast.

Mr and Mrs Weasley were in the corner of the room, fussing over an old, slightly rusted, toaster. A blackened, slightly smoking, piece of toast lay on the side.

'Oh, for goodness sake, Arthur!' Mrs Weasley was exclaiming. 'Why you can't do things our way, I don't know! You have to bring back all that Muggle junk. You don't even know how to work it!'

'Yes, dear, but it's all so interesting. I don't know how they get by without magic, but some of these inventions are fascinating.' Mr Weasley had now taken the back off the toaster, and was peering inside.

'Oh Arthur, you're going to get yourself killed. Oh, hello there Harry, dear.'

She had spotted Harry, and ignoring Mr Weasley's protests, followed shortly by a small explosion, was magically pouring Harry a glass of orange juice, and the bread was slicing and buttering itself.

'Morning, Mrs Weasley, Mr Weasley.' Harry sat down and drank the orange juice in one.

'Ah! Good morning Harry! Did you have a good night's sleep?' Mr Weasley stood up, with black all over his face.

'Yes, thank you,' Harry lied.

'Good, good... I say, you don't know how to work this Muggle device, do you Harry?' Mr Weasley asked eagerly.

'No! Harry is having his breakfast. I'll not have you bothering him with that rubbish!' said Mrs Weasley furiously.

'Oh, no it's OK, Mrs Weasley, I don't mind.' Harry was glad for an excuse to get away from his food. He still wasn't hungry.

He walked over to the toaster, and grabbed a slice of bread off the counter.

'Okay, Mr Weasley, all you do is--' he put the bread in the toaster, '--put the bread in, push that lever down, and when it pops up, your toast is done!'

Mr Weasley stared eagerly at the toaster until it popped up, then quickly stuffed the toast into his mouth, as if he expected it to run--or fly--away.

'Mm,' he said through a mouthful of crumbs, 'ingenious...ingenious...thank you Harry!'

He patted him on the back, then kissed his wife on the cheek and announced he was going to work, and that he mustn't be late. He left the kitchen, and they heard the front door slam.

'Harry, dear, you haven't touched your bread,' said Mrs Weasley fondly, looking at his plate.

'Oh, um, I--I had some toast from the toaster. I-I'm not really very hungry to be honest. Thanks anyway though.' He felt bad about lying again, but he knew she would only try and force him to eat, and there was no one there to back him up. But before she could say anything, Sirius came into the kitchen, scratching his head and looking around blearily. 'Mornin' Harry, mornin' Molly,' he mumbled groggily.

'Morning Sirius,' replied Harry and Mrs Weasley simultaneously. A plate of crumpets appeared in front of Sirius and he attacked them at once.

'Hungry?' Harry said with a small smile.

'Mm. Famished.' Sirius replied with his mouth full.

He grinned at Harry, who said conversationally, 'Did you know, that when you snore it sounds like a dog growling?'

Sirius laughed, spraying crumpet all over the table. Mrs Weasley cleaned it up with a flick of her wand.

'No! Do I?'

'Yeah, I heard you last night. Anyway, what's that in your hand?' Sirius lifted up his hand, and looked at the thing in it, as if he'd completely forgotten about it. 'Oh, it's today's edition of the Daily Prophet. A very nice owl came and rapped on my window to deliver it. That's why I'm up so early. Bloody owl...'

'Early?!' spluttered Harry incredulously, 'It's almost eleven!'

'Yeah, but I don't normally get up until after lunch!' Sirius replied defensively.

'Anyway, can I have a look at the paper?'

'Um, well, I dunno, I don't think you'll like what they have to say. But remember, Harry, it's only the Prophet, I mean, everyone knows they're corrupt...' he trailed off, looking worried.

Harry stretched out his hand and took the newspaper from Sirius. Immediately, he saw his own face looking back at him. He inspected it closely, and saw it was a much younger version of himself, taken a few years ago. But then, he reasoned, no one's seen me in a year, so it can't be a recent photo, can it? His photo self looked like he'd rather be anywhere else than where he was. Harry read the headline.

THE BOY WHO SURVIVED? OR THE BOY WHO SKIVED?

Two days ago, writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent, the elusive Harry Potter returned to the world. But where has he been? No one seems to know. An interview that took place earlier today proved inconclusive. Albus Dumbledore (below) refused to answer any of The Prophet's questions about Harry. Harry is generally a troubled young man, so had he just had enough? According to our sources, Harry has no idea where he has been, or, indeed, that he has been away at all. But should we believe him? As this writer has proved, even though others say differently, Harry could be attention-seeking and has told us before that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was back, even though we have no proof of that apart from his word. Has Harry been simply running away from his responsibilities? This article continues on page 4.

Harry folded the newspaper and slapped it down on the table angrily.

How could they print that? He had fought Voldemort on numerous occasions, and they still didn't believe him!

Mrs Weasley and Sirius were watching him fearfully. Harry sighed.

'Well, we all know how nasty and snide Rita Skeeter can be, don't we?' Mrs Weasley said, trying to cheer Harry up.

'Yeah...' he replied, deep in thought. 'I'm gonna go and send Ron and Hermione an owl, okay?'

Sirius nodded sadly, and Harry left the kitchen. He trudged up to his bedroom, grabbed a quill, some ink and a bit of parchment, and collapsed onto his bed. He started to write.

Dear Ron and Hermione,

I hope you both are well. I'm apparently not allowed back to Hogwarts at the moment, and I have to stay at Headquarters. I hate being cooped up, and I now know what Snuffles feels like. You probably saw Rita Skeeter's article in the Daily Prophet, and I finally believe people that I have been away since just after the beginning of the fifth year at Hogwarts. Sorry for storming out like that yesterday, but I couldn't see you again, because I was then taken in for questioning, and testing, by Dumbledore, Lupin and Snape. Something strange happened. I will tell you when I next see you. Everyone is okay here, Ron, your mum and dad are okay too. I taught your dad how to use a toaster this morning!

Anyway, I'm missing you both loads, and I can't wait to be back at Hogwarts!

See you soon,

Harry.

He gave the letter to Hedwig and lay on his back, looking up at the ceiling. He sighed. The front door slammed, and Harry jumped up. He looked outside his bedroom window into the street. There was no-one there, so it must be someone coming in.

It was too early for Mr Weasley so that must mean...visitors! Harry raced out of his room, and looked over the banister. He just caught sight of a large amount of silver hair before it disappeared into the kitchen. Dumbledore! Harry got dressed, and came downstairs. He heard raised voices.

'Albus, it's a trap!'

'I know, Molly, but it may well be the only way to get Harry's memories back.' Harry pushed the door open. Dumbledore stood facing Mr and Mrs Weasley; the latter had her hands on her hips and was looking stern. Mr Weasley looked past Dumbledore, and saw Harry. 'Harry!' he called.

Dumbledore turned around, his light blue eyes surveying Harry through his half-moon spectacles. 'Harry,' he said quietly, 'I think I have found a way to restore your memories.'

Harry blinked. 'Really? Well let's go then!' He was feeling enthusiastic; he couldn't stay mad at Dumbledore, even before he had told him the good news.

'Ah, but I am afraid we have hit a snag.' Dumbledore looked grave. 'It is far too dangerous for me to allow you to come. I must go alone, or with a few Order members. The only way you could come, is if you were apparently not there at all, but that is nearly impossible.' He gave a small wink to Harry, who was completely confused, but because Dumbledore was not facing Mr and Mrs Weasley, they did not see.

'And where are my memories?' Harry asked uncertainly. What did he mean, "the only way you could come, was if you were apparently not there at all."? Maybe it was a riddle, Harry thought, Dumbledore likes setting people those.

'They lie in the Department of Mysteries,' he replied.

'The Department of Mysteries,' Harry repeated, now why did that sound familiar..?

'I should leave now. I will return as soon as I can. Goodbye Molly, Arthur.' He walked out of the room, cloak sweeping behind him. Harry followed. It suddenly dawned on Harry what Dumbledore meant in his cryptic message. What makes you appear to not be there at all? An Invisibility Cloak!

'Sir,' Harry called, 'stay there a minute!' He raced upstairs, picked up his wand and cloak, put it on, and ran back downstairs. As soon as Harry got to the bottom step Dumbledore set off.

He opened the front door, walked through it, left it open just long enough for Harry to squeeze through, and then said, 'Harry, we will Apparate there, it is much quicker. Grab my arm, and hold on tight.' Harry did so and Dumbledore did a funny little turn on the spot. The world started spinning around him, and Harry couldn't breathe.

Then the world stopped being a blur and Harry looked around. In front of them was an old, red telephone box. Harry knew that it was the entrance to the Ministry of Magic. But they didn't go inside the phone box; instead, Dumbledore led Harry round the back to different entrance. It was an old, wooden door with a sign saying, "DANGER! UNSAFE STRUCTURE! DO NOT ENTER!"

Dumbledore knocked three times on the door and said quietly, 'Fifteen Galleons, six Sickles, and a Knut.'

It must have been a password, because the door opened into a long, black tiled corridor.

'Sir,' Harry whispered, 'this is where I was taken for my disciplinary hearing.' That was why he remembered the "Department of Mysteries".

'Yes, Harry, it was. A moment of quiet now, Harry, if you please. We need to get through that door.' He pointed ahead of him. Harry stopped dead, his mouth hanging open.

Dumbledore turned around. 'Harry..?'

'Sir, I've just remembered! I've had dreams, or visions, or whatever, about that door and trying to get through it!'

'When was this?' Dumbledore asked sharply.

Harry frowned. 'Um, it must have been before I, you know, disappeared.'

'And have you had any more dreams like this since you have been back?'

'Um, well, no sir, you see, I haven't slept since I--came back.'

There was silence.

'Oh, I see. Sleep is very important Harry, very important.'

But they had reached the door.

'I think,' Dumbledore continued, 'that you will have to open it, Harry.'

'Why's that sir?'

'Well, firstly, because you are the one that dreamt about this door, and secondly, you are the one that can speak Parseltongue.'

Harry started. He looked closer at the door, and saw two tiny engraved serpents, with glittering eyes. 'I'd never noticed those before, sir,' Harry muttered.

'No, well the entrance changes according to whether the person trying to get in is meant to get in, and if they are meant to enter, the ability of that person.'

'I see.' Harry positioned himself directly in front of the snakes, and murmured, 'Open,' He could distinguish a low hiss coming from his mouth at the same time as the English word. The serpents started to move, away from the middle of the door, and slowly but surely, it slid open.

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