Harry Potter and the Missing Prophecy

Dear Harry,

My humble apologies for not writing sooner.

I understand that you must be feeling a myriad of emotions at this moment in time, many of them hostile towards myself and I have no doubt that you have many questions still unanswered. You have been given a great responsibility and my naïve inexperience has taught me well. I will no longer keep secrets that involve you or your family. I have told you the worst of them. However, if you feel you need more answers, I have instructed the Order not to keep any more from you. As for myself, one day I hope you will forgive me sufficiently to come and seek those answers from me.

You have been at your Aunt's home for two weeks now and I feel it has been a sufficient amount of time required for you to stay there. I will be removing you from there this coming Friday. However, it has been difficult to allow you to return to The Burrow to stay with the Weasleys. We have information leading us to believe that their house is under watch by people we do not want it watched by.

But I do have good news. Under the circumstances I have arranged for you to stay with one Miss Hermione Granger at her home in Bedfordshire, where her house has had protective charms installed. And in addition, Ron Weasley will join you there on Sunday. I sincerely hope you will at least try to enjoy the rest of the summer holidays, difficult as that may be in the present climate.

You will be picked up at 3pm on Friday by Remus Lupin, who will accompany you to Miss Granger's home. You might also be pleased to learn that I have re-appointed Remus as our new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. Cornelius Fudge didn't seem to mind when I told him.

Kind regards,

Albus Dumbledore

Harry Potter stared at the letter for a few minutes, then let it drop to the floor. He turned to look out of his bedroom window, up at the moon shining through the darkness, and tried to process what the letter had said.

Professor Dumbledore hadn't mentioned Sirius. Harry suspected that Dumbledore had not known what to say that could possibly comfort him after losing his godfather.

The letter had arrived just under an hour ago by a handsome tawny owl, who had promptly taken off into the night as soon as it had delivered it's letter. Harry had stared at it for a long time, recognising the writing on the envelope, contemplating what Dumbledore might have written.

And now that Harry had read it, he did not feel any different. In fact, Harry felt nothing at all. He hadn't done since he had come home for the summer.

Home.

A simple word, yet fraught with meaning.

For most people, home meant sanctuary. A loving family to lean on in times of trouble and somewhere that, when you rested your head on your pillow for the night, felt somehow at peace, knowing this was where you belonged.

For Harry, home meant anything but this. His home meant living with relatives, but there was no comfort here. He was forced to call this house his home, as it was a means to keep him alive. Which was strange anyway, considering that for a boy of fifteen (almost sixteen), he'd almost been killed at least five times. That was enough by anyone's standards, let alone a teenage boy's.

However for Harry, getting himself almost murdered at least once a year seemed to be pre-requisite to his existence. The Prophecy he had learned of only a few short weeks ago only served to hammer the last nail into his coffin. Or at least that's what it felt like to him.

Harry stood up and turned away from the window, walked across his immaculately clean room and sat on his crisp, freshly washed sheets. The television in the corner remained untouched since it was bought for him, and the pile of muggle sweets on the bedside table remained unopened.

The Dursleys had been behaving very strangely, almost nice, towards him since he came back. Harry wasn't under any doubt as to why that was. They were scared that the Advanced Guard would turn up at any time and embarrass them in front of the neighbours or hex them if they didn't treat him well.

Uncle Vernon had started giving Harry pocket money and bought him a brand new television to watch in his room. Having gone for most of his life without television, Harry had not watched anything on it. Aunt Petunia came to clean Harry's room for him every day and she had instructed Dudley to leave Harry alone or face the rest of the summer on another diet. He had also been buying sweets for him.

Needless to say, the Dursleys did not say a word about the owls that kept dropping off letters and parcels for him and nor did they shout at Harry for mentioning magic. They gritted their teeth when he did but never once, during the time he'd been back, had they yelled, shouted or bossed him about. He even had breakfast made for him in the mornings now.

Once, Dudley had asked about the magical world over dinner (Harry's favourite of course) and even though Uncle Vernon went purple and looked about to pop, he didn't make a sound as Harry explained to Dudley what Quidditch was. The only reason Harry had told him at all was because he knew how much Dudley was jealous of him and his magical powers and Harry liked to take satisfaction in encouraging that jealousy, whilst annoying Uncle Vernon into the bargain.

Although Harry had been there only two weeks, and even though he didn't want to think about his Headmaster, he was glad that he would be leaving on Friday. He didn't like to think about Dumbledore. He didn't like to think about Sirius. He didn't even like to think about his best friends Ron and Hermione too much, because thinking of them only reminded him that they both had loving families and Harry didn't. Thinking meant having to try to answer all the questions that would run around his head. And so therefore thinking was a banned activity, as far as Harry was concerned.

Harry had not told Ron and Hermione about the Prophecy. He didn't know how. They wouldn't be able to help him anyway. It seems that getting rid of Voldemort was down to him and him alone. Either that or die trying and let the world fall with him.

Friday saw Harry sitting alone in the conservatory that Uncle Vernon had just had fitted to the back of the house, sipping hot chocolate, which Aunt Petunia had fetched for him. Both Uncle Vernon and Dudley were out. He was reading The Daily Prophet, looking for any news. They had an article about Cornelius Fudge's incompetence as Minister for Magic. The moving picture of Fudge had him looking highly embarrassed and trying to hide behind his cloak. Apart from that, the rest was only the usual speculation about where Voldemort was. No one had any definite information.

Voldemort's plans had been scuppered when Neville had smashed the Prophecy at the Ministry of Magic. Voldemort was now much more alone than he had been, as most of his loyal Death Eaters had been escorted to Azkaban straight after the incident. He only had a few remaining loyal followers whom the Ministry had not yet caught, including Bellatrix Lestrange, the woman who had dealt Sirius his final blow....

Harry had packed his trunk and it was sitting at the foot of the stairs, along with Hedwig's cage, ready to leave when Remus came for him in half an hour. Although Harry had had the best treatment at the Dursleys, he couldn't wait to get out of there. And although he wasn't particularly ready to face his friends, Harry knew that anywhere was better than here.

Harry put the paper down and stared into space. Then he realised he was thinking again and picked up one of the muggle newspapers lying about on the conservatory table. The headline blared something about a married footballer being discovered in a compromising situation with someone who most definitely was not his wife. Harry turned to the problem pages. He liked reading them. They reminded him of normal people and their normal problems. Many times he had contemplated what he would write:

"Dear Deirdre,

I'm 15 years old and I've been almost the victim of an evil madman more times than you've had hot dinners. I've just found out that I am the only person who can kill said evil madman, who also killed my parents when I was a baby. On top of that, one of the evil madman's cronies has just killed my godfather and I have annoying relatives. Oh, and I can't seem to talk to girls. Please help!"

Harry laughed a low, hollow laugh, just as the front doorbell rang.

Harry heard Aunt Petunia get up from the kitchen table and hurry to the front door, obviously relieved that Remus hadn't gained access by some other way. Harry inwardly smiled at the thought of Remus Apparating into the kitchen in front of a shocked Petunia.

"Welcome, welcome to our home," Aunt Petunia cried, with a false smile plastered on her face.

"Thank you Petunia. Is Harry...?" Remus' voice broke off as Harry entered the hall. "Ah, there you are, your lovely Aunt was just about to offer me a cup of tea," Remus said to Harry with a small smirk playing about his lips.

Aunt Petunia fumbled about, simpering, "Of course, of course, do come in." She was wringing her hands and her eyes were darting about, obviously checking for any other strange people in the vicinity.

Harry said to Remus, "Can we just leave now please?"

"Of course Harry." Remus pointed his wand at Harry's trunk and muttered "Locomotor trunk," at which the trunk levitated into the air and hovered out the door. Aunt Petunia's eyes were on stalks.

"Bye then," Harry smirked to his Aunt.

She replied in a panicky voice. "It's been a pleasure having you again Harry!"

Harry walked across the front lawn, deliberately trampling over Aunt Petunia's prize roses, and didn't look back.

"Harry, that wasn't very nice," Remus scolded, but he had a smile on his face nonetheless.

They walked across the road and into the alleyway that the Dementors had come after Harry and Dudley in the year before. Remus stopped and put his hand on Harry's shoulder.

"We'll be Apparating out of here Harry. You'll need to make sure you don't lose contact with me".

And with that, they disappeared with a small crack.

Harry and Remus Apparated into Hermione's street. Harry looked around, a little disorientated from Apparating. He was in a tree-lined avenue, in a friendly-looking neighborhood, very unlike the cold and uniform Privet Drive, where all the houses were identical. These detached houses were all individual in style. Some were like little cottages with colourful flower gardens. Others were larger with ivy growing over them.

"It's this one here Harry." Remus guided Harry up to a pretty two-story house with a double garage and chrysanthemum bushes lining the driveway.

Harry noticed a curtain twitching to his right and a second later the front door burst open and Hermione came running up to Harry and flung her arms around him.

"Oh, Harry, I'm so glad to see you!" she squealed. Harry felt a bit awkward at this open show of emotion and pulled away. "I've got so much planned for you while you're here! And did they tell you Ron's coming on Sunday?"

"Er, yeah," replied Harry.

"My parents can't wait to see you again. They've made up the spare bedroom for you and for Ron, once he's here. Come inside!"

Hermione grabbed Harry's hand and pulled him forcibly up the stairs and through the front door. She led him and Remus through the hallway and into the kitchen, which looked over the large back garden.

"My parents are still at work but they should be home soon," Hermione gushed. "Are you staying, Remus?"

Remus smiled and said: "No, I really should be getting back. School timetables and lessons to plan and all that..."

Hermione looked momentarily startled, then broke into a big grin. "Well, it's about time Dumbledore put his foot down and got us a decent Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher!" Then Hermione suddenly looked serious and a little worried. "Can you tell us what's on the curriculum this year? 'Cos we start our NEWTs soon and I'm really worried that we won't have caught up, what with losing a year to that toad of a woman last year."

"Give him a break Hermione!" Harry exclaimed. "We've only just broken up from last year. We haven't even received our OWL grades yet!"

Hermione looked indignant. "It's never too late to start!"

Remus interrupted their little tirade. "Listen, I really do have to go. Harry, try to enjoy yourself. And remember, you're not alone, even though it may seem that you are. One of the Order is always on hand should you need us. We'll be closer than you think."

"Thanks Remus," Harry said, although he didn't feel reassured, but rather put out that they were always babysitting him. And the fact that the one person Harry wouldn't mind looking out for him could no longer do that threatened to engulf Harry, before he caught himself and went to shake Remus' hand.

"Take care, Harry. I mean it. Sirius would not want you to do anything silly, and you know it."

As Remus Apparated out of the kitchen, Harry blanched. Somebody had said his name out loud. Harry fell into a chair at the kitchen table and fell silent, his head in his hands.

"Harry?" Hermione asked tentatively.

Harry didn't say a word. Hermione sat down opposite him and gently took his hands and cupped them in her own over the table. Harry did not seem to have noticed. They sat there in silence for a while, Harry staring blankly ahead, Hermione looking concerned. She seemed to sense that Harry did not want to talk right now, and Harry suddenly felt grateful for a friend who knew him like she knew herself.

After a few minutes, Harry shook his head to clear it, and offered Hermione a small thankful smile. He seemed to come to his senses and realise that she was holding his hands and stroking them with one thumb, and so he pulled them quickly away.

An awkwardness fell upon the two friends, and Hermione suddenly jumped up. "Would you like something to eat, Harry?"

"No, thanks Hermione. But a cup of hot chocolate wouldn't go astray."

"Coming right up!"

As Hermione busied herself getting the mugs and boiling the kettle, exclaiming, "I wish I was seventeen already, this would be so much easier then!" Harry contemplated how and if he should tell his two best friends about the Prophecy. Obviously, they knew he was upset about Sirius, but they had no idea as to the future he was facing and Harry didn't know if he could handle any more sympathy right now.

Harry thought about Ron arriving in two days, and although he wasn't really in the mood for Hermione and Ron's inane and occasionally annoying arguing, he found it strangely comforting that the trio would all be together again. They had been through so much together during the past five years, that he almost didn't remember what it was like before he met them. Harry almost thought they were like three sides of a triangle - nothing without the other two sides to make it whole.

Ron, the joker. Never afraid to take a risk and stick his neck out for his friends. Loyal, brave and gentle, a true Gryffindor. It would have been too easy to be jealous of Harry's unwelcome fame, and although this surfaced once or twice in the past, Ron knew that Harry hated to be The Boy Who Lived.

Hermione, the voice of reason whenever adventure went astray. A bottomless source of facts, trivia and information, and if she didn't know it, she knew where she could find it. Understanding, insightful and ambitious. She could have been placed in any house at Hogwarts, but her bravery stood out against the rest.

And Harry... What was Harry to their three? Harry thought of himself as the reckless one, calm in the face of danger, yet unthinking and irresponsible. How many times had Dumbledore proven he could be trusted? And yet how many times had Harry betrayed it or thought he knew best?

As much as Harry knew that others would disagree, Sirius's death was his own fault....

Harry was broken out of his thoughts by Hermione placing his mug in front of him. He thanked her and in that split second that he looked into her eyes, he made the decision to tell Ron and Hermione the truth. When the time was right and he had them both together, he would tell them of what was to come; what had been seen before he had even been born.

Harry didn't want to be alone anymore.