The Fountain of Oblivion

Chapter 2 Greetings from Grimmauld Place

Suddenly, Harry remembered he still had a third owl waiting for him. He reached for the fancy electric blue envelope the silent black bird was holding and opened it, wondering vaguely who it was from. Inside was a moving photograph of a witch and a wizard, both very attractive and smiling somewhat absent-mindedly at something or someone he could not see. Under the photograph was written in coloured flashing letters:

Feeling sad? Feeling blue?
Drink from the Fountain of Happiness
One sip from the Fountain of Happiness and you'll be smiling for the rest of the day!
Order now from the Fountain of Enchantment
4563 Wizard Spring, Hogsmeade

A advertisement! Harry had never received commercial owl post before, even though he had upon occasion ran unto a commercial billboard in Diagon Alley. He tossed aside the letter somewhat irritably and reached for his quill to answer his friends. He felt like writing them long letters, congratulating them heartily for their OWLs results and telling them about his own. He went onto sharing his feelings about the summer and his aspirations for next year, asking them for advice on how to continue the D.A. Yet, he could not summon enough strength to tell them about the prophecy and how he felt about Sirius. ''They don't have to share this burden you have." he told himself. "You are responsible for Sirius' death and you will atone for it.'' Harry spent the rest of the day, silent and thoughtful, his musings only disturbed by sudden outburst of rage coming from below as Uncle Vernon was telling his son off. The following days were pretty much uneventful, Harry spent most of his time walking alone in the streets of Little Whinging, smiling mildly at Colonel Fubster's newly posted sign (''Who would pass through my chimney except Father Christmas? I was told he did not exist! ''), and thinking about whatever came to his mind. He could not quite settle down to choosing his NEWT classes yet. Of course, he was sure that he would take the Advance Defence against the Dark Arts class, and also Charms, as he had always found Professor Flitwick taught interesting lessons. He would also take Transfiguration, even though Professor McGonagall had the habit of giving a tremendous amount of homework. His fourth class could be Care of Magical Creatures or maybe Herbology. Perhaps both? But that would be a bit too much, wouldn't it? Harry had recalled that McGonagall had advised him to take the Potions class, as it was useful for Auror training, but he was glad to have escaped Snape's class. There had never been anything between Snape and him other than mistrust and loathing. ÊHarry couldn't help but think that if Snape hadn't been there, Sirius would have been cleared three years ago, and would not have spent the last year of his life locked in a house he hated. Barely visible tears formed from time to time in his eyes. On these occasions, he wiped them away quickly and quickened his pace, trying to ignore the suspicious looks of his neighbours.

On the thirtieth of July, Harry was alone in the Dursley's living-room, as an unexpected but violent storm had broken out. In a few hours the carefully kept lawns of the inhabitants of Privet Drive were destroyed. Uncle Vernon was still working and Dudley had, as usual, left the house with no notice. Harry caught glimpses of Aunt Petunia, waiting in the kitchen, trembling from anxiety with each bolt of lightning. Harry almost felt sorry for her. As he was used to practicing Quidditch in any kind of weather, he was on the verge of telling her that he could go look for Dudley. He thought he could figure out where Dudley's gang was. But before he had a chance to open his mouth, a most unusual thing happen. Walking cautiously out of the kitchen, and obviously trying to hide her predicament, Aunt Petunia entered the living-room, and after pretending for a quick moment she had something to clean there, addressed Harry.

''You, I mean, you do have exams, in that school of yours?'' she asked. Harry had the impression she was deliberately rather than genuinely trying to sound disgusted when referring to Hogwarts.

''Er... yes, we do,'' said Harry, not knowing exactly if he was for allowed to mention the fact he was not attending Saint Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys. He tried his luck and added: ''In fact, I sat them this year and just got the results.''

''Oh,'' snapped Aunt Petunia, but then her face completely changed and she looked to Harry with a melange of fear and concern that Harry had never seen before. ''And, er ..., not that I care, mind you,'' she continued in a shrill voice, but it was now obvious that she did. ''But did it go well? I mean, er ..., Lily was always a brilliant student I was told.'' Harry felt an awkward longing to tell her everything, that his mother and father had been among the best students ever in Hogwarts, that his Godfather was extremely bright too and that all of them had died heroically in the war against Voldemort. However, he only nodded and waited to see what was coming next. Aunt Petunia stepped back a little. She stood a bit more stiffly and said with a mix of contempt and something Harry could not exactly qualify:

''Though I guess it did not help her in the end, did it? I wish nothing of this had ever happened.'' For the first time in five years, there was a fleeting instant where Harry felt likewise, after all, if his parents had been Muggles, he would still have them both and would probably live a happy life with them. He had the impression he could understand his aunt: she knew nothing of the wonders of the wizarding world, but knew too well of its perils. Harry's long-frustrated curiosity forced him to ask a question.

''Aunt Petunia, how was it when my mother was at Hogwarts? I mean at school.''

Aunt Petunia became suddenly very pale, as she did not dare speak of it in a middle of a storm. ''It was dreadful. She was very brave, you know. She wanted to fight. I never understood why. And then it started.''

''What started?'' Harry asked with apprehension.

''The killings!'' She practically yelled. ''They could not take her, so they attacked everyone else. Mum and Dad, they...'' but her voice broke before she could finish. ''I'm next in line, I always knew. And now he is back,'' she ended miserably. ''And where is Dudley? Does this boy have any sense, wandering around in a storm with all this?'' she cried.

''Maybe I should go looking for him,'' suggested Harry. ''I think I know where he spends most of the time with his friends these days.'' Much to Harry's surprise, his answer did not help Aunt Petunia to relax a bit, on the contrary, she turned suddenly away from him and disappeared in the kitchen, muttering something about not going out and losing one's mind. The following hours seemed to stretch to an unnatural length, as the storm became even stronger and more fear-inspiring with the falling night. Harry chose to stay in the living-room, instead of retreating in his room, to give Aunt Petunia the little company he could provide. Heavy raindrops were pelting against the windows, carried by a howling wind. Each bolt of lighting and rumbling of thunder made Aunt Petunia jump and shiver. It was just before midnight when, at last, the Dursley's bell rang. Aunt Petunia sprang from the chair she had been waiting in and ran to the door in a feverish sort of way. Just before she reached it, lightning hit the ground just in front of the Dursley home making the whole house shake and all lights suddenly went out. For a second, Harry waited in the darkened living-room, listening to the deafening thunder. The volume gradually went back to normal. Harry looked down the hall to see who was coming in but saw only Aunt Petunia, prostrated just before the front door. Then, in what seemed slow motion, the door opened and Harry saw a tall, black figure draw itself against the dark background of the stormy night. An awe-inspiring man in a long cloak was standing at the end of the hallway, holding what was unmistakably a wand. Aunt Petunia let out a long, despairing wail and fell to the feet of the stranger, shaking uncontrollably.

Harry took out his wand as fast as he could, and standing at the end of the hallway, yelled Protego. A powerful magic shield enveloped the now lying Aunt Petunia. ''Leave her alone,'' Harry said in a steady voice. ''You're here for me.''

''That, indeed, is very true,'' a deep and warm voice answered. In a smooth flick of his wand, the wizard conjured a gleaming light that illuminated the Dursley home. In the now lit entrance hall stood a tall and thin old man in a magnificent night-blue robe embroidered with golden stars and crescent moons. Through his half-moon spectacles, the gleaming and slightly amused eyes of Albus Dumbledore looked at Harry.

''Do you need a hand Petunia?'' Dumbledore asked politely. ''By the way, where can I leave my boots? I would hate to dirty your beautiful house with them. Dreadful weather, tonight, I am afraid.'' Petunia seemed quite relieved to be addressed to in such a normal and polite way, because she managed to stand up again, though still shaking quite violently.

''You can leave them here,'' she muttered. Harry was quite sure that Dumbledore could have cleaned them in a second using magic, and he appreciated the insight the headmaster of Hogwarts had not to use any uneccesary magic in front of Aunt Petunia. Dumbledore disposed of his boots and turned again to Harry.

''I am positively delighted to see you, Harry,'' he said. Harry felt warmed inside by the sight of Albus Dumbledore. You could not help but feel safe and secure in his presence.

''Thank you, Professor,'' Harry answered. ''It's a pleasure to see you too. Did anything happen? I mean, Voldemort...''

''Do not worry, Harry. Lord Voldemort is not the main reason for my visit, though of course he is not unconnected to it. I have come here to take you to the Headquarters of the Order. Much is waiting for you there, including a red-haired family and a young girl with bushy hair,'' he added whimsically. ''Are you sure you do not need any help, Petunia? Maybe it would be a good idea if I made tea. It's a chilling night, really.''

Petunia tried to answer (but Harry could not understand a word of what she said), and left to go in the kitchen.

''I am afraid tonight has been kind of a shock for your aunt,'' Dumbledore said. ''I have taken the liberty to pack for you just before I arrived. However, you might want to check if I have left anything you wanted behind. Your aunt and I need to talk a bit before we go. Oh, of course, I almost forgot! You will find on your bed something unexpected,'' he said. He took out of his mantle what looked like an astrolabe. ''Happy birthday, Harry Potter.'' Harry looked at Dumbledore, smiling widely. He had not forgot the anger he had felt towards him last year for keeping him in the dark and for forcing Sirius to stay imprisoned. Yet he appreciated the caring way he was talking to him now. Dumbledore was the leader of the Order of the Phoenix and yet he had spared a few hours of his time just to wish him a happy birthday! Unable to express properly what he felt, he kept grinning and ran to his room. As Dumbledore had said, everything had been neatly packed.

''Dumbledore can do that and I am supposed to defeat Voldemort,'' Harry wondered. ''I will never been half as powerful as he is. How am I supposed to stand a chance?'' A carefully wrapped present was also waiting for him on his bed. Harry could not resist tearing the paper off and was not completely surprised to see a box of sherbet lemon candies. He put it in his trunk and checked that everything he needed was indeed there, closed his trunk, took Hedwig's cage under one arm, his trunk in the other and went down again. Aunt Petunia and Dumbledore were both sitting in the living-room, speaking around a smoking tea-pot. Harry noticed Dumbledore was wearing a pair of orange socks which would not look out of place on Dobby. Though he was curious to know what they were discussing, Harry refrained from joining them too soon, feeling they probably wanted to be left in private at least for few minutes. Before long however, Dumnledore stood up again and called for him.

''It is time we go, Harry. Are you ready yet?'' he asked.

''Er... Yes, I am, Professor Dumbledore. Professor? There's something I was thinking about. You know, I cast a protecting spell when you arrived, right?"

''And a most effective at that, I see that the somewhat irregular teaching you followed in Defence against the Dark Arts has not prevented you from becoming extremely talented in that field. I seem to recollect you had an O to your OWL, am I correct?'' asked Dumbledore.

''Yes, I had, but that's not what I...'' hesitated Harry ''Why did I not received an owl from the improper use of magic yet?'' he finally said.

''Believe me, the ministry has more to deal with right now than improper use of magic.'' Dumbledore answered. ''Shall we go now?''

''Er... sure. But Professor?''

''Yes, Harry?''

''The thing is, my cousin and uncle are somewhere outside in the storm. Could you tell my aunt where they are before we leave? If that is possible,'' asked Harry, feeling a bit embarrassed.

''It is,'' Dumbledore said while quickly drawing a complex form in the air with his wand. ''Your cousin is waiting under a porch, three streets from here. He is quite soaked but apart from that, he is safe. As for your uncle, I believe his car had a problem on his way back, you might want to call a garage owner, Petunia. He seems perfectly in good health, but his temper could be quite high. Is that all, Harry?'' Dumbledore asked, looking at Harry with his clear-blue gaze.

''Yes, that is all, thank you Professor. Good bye, Aunt Petunia,'' Harry said.

''Thank you,'' she muttered in a weak voice. Still, her voice dropped almost to the point of being inaudible when she whispered ''Happy birthday, Harry.''

It was in a strange mood that Harry reached for the key Dumbledore gave him. Even when he felt the unpleasant but now familiar feeling of being violently pulled forward, he could not stop thinking about what his aunt had told him about the wizarding world. ÊShe had met and even talked with Albus Dumbledore and had even wished him a happy birthday for the first time in his life. What was going on with her?

Suddenly, Harry felt the cold Êwet ground again. He was in the middle of a gloomy, almost deserted place. Yet his heart felt light: nothing would make him happier than seeing his friends and all the members of the Order again. The scene before him was exactly like the first time he had come here, the two shabby-looking homes of number eleven and thirteen suddenly stretched as the tall building of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place materialised, popping out from the ground. ''Welcome back,'' Dumbledore said. ''I dare say a crowd will be waiting for you inside.'' They crossed the threshold of the headquarters. Harry expected to feel a sudden wave of sadness while entering the house of his late Godfather. He wondered if he would be able to stand the gloomy hallway, the snake-shaped chandelier, and even the very mood of the house of Black. He was Êtherefore shocked to discover how much the house had changed during the summer. The once peeling wallpaper and the dirty, ancient carpets had vanished and been replaced by neat yellow and red rugs. The walls had been white washed recently, and the gas lamps had been repaired so that they no longer made the hissing sound that was so disturbing.

''Why, the Order has tried to make this a little more liveable,'' said Dumbledore, eyeing him from the corner of his eyes. ''I need to attend a quick meeting with members of the Order, but we need to speak later with you, Ron, Hermione and Ginny. There is much still to do both inside and out of Hogwarts. ÊI'm afraid I will need help from all of you.''

''Of course,'' started Harry, but was interrupted by the a loud cry coming from the end of the corridor. A tall brown-haired girl literally fell in his arms, hugging him so strongly he almost choked.

''Wow, Hermione, how are you doing?''

''Hey, Hermione, let go, will you. Good to see you Harry,'' said Ron. Harry immediately noticed he had kept growing up during the summer and was now as tall as his father.

''You'll end up taller than Dumbledore if you go on like this,'' said Harry in a mocking tone.

''Yeah, but the good thing is now that I am the tallest in the family, Mum will be forced to buy me new clothes,'' answered Ron, looking delighted. ''Besides, I would hate to be a dark-haired, green-eyed midget.''

''I don't know what you think, Fred, but I have the impression I'm under a Confundus Charm. I heard our tiny Ronnie speaks of himself as the tallest of the Weasleys. I hope our Reducing Reglisse are ready as I feel there is an urgent need of them,'' said George Weasley while popping out of nowhere.

''They sure are, partner, and so is our Changeling Chewing-gum,'' said Ginny Weasley. But before Harry could recover from the surprise of Ginny answering her older brother like this, her face started to wrap oddly, her thin body became stockier and her long hair seemed to reenter her head. ''Why are you looking just like you've eaten a Petrifying Pastille, Harry? You haven't given him one of them already, George, have you?'' said Fred.

''Those two are really a pain,'' whispered Ron to Harry's ear, ''before we knew too well not to eat anything coming from the twins, but now we can't trust anyone anymore.''

''Fred, I had told you not to take my appearance anymore!'' yelled the real Ginny running down the stairs. ''Happy birthday Harry!'' she added hugging him closely and then, in one voice, the Weasleys and Hermione broke into a discording, but incredibly cheerful birthday song.

Harry babbled some thanks. He realised with a mixed feeling of joy and sadness that it was the first time in his life he had a birthday party. Shaking with emotion, he hugged in turn all his friends (only Fred disapparated without warning when Harry tried to take him in his arms, so that he ended up almost falling on the floor).

''I'll show your room,'' said Ron. ''The house has changed quite a bit since last year you know, we have been working like mad to make a little bit more liveable than when Sir... I mean, you know Kreacher...'' An embarrassed silence spread at an alarming rate in the assembly that had been so cheerful one second before.

''It's okay, mate,'' said Harry. ''''I'm sure it's brilliant now. Have you been able to get rid of all the Doxies? ÊThey were a mess to chase last year, I remember one biting me...'' And with this remark, the crowd started again buzzing excitedly. Harry followed Ron up the old stairs, where the house-elf heads had stood. That too had been cleaned, and Harry thought for a second that a new visitor would not easily guess that this house had been the home to a family of Dark Wizards. Nor that it had been the last home of Sirius Black.

''What has happened to the screaming portrait?'' Harry asked, noticing that no-one had bothered whispering in the hall.

''It's actually quite strange,'' said Ron. His face contorted in an awkward expression before he added, ''It stopped screaming after Sirius left, you know.''

''Oh!'' Harry tried to speak as calmly as he could, but he heard his own voice shaking when he asked, ''And what about Kreacher?''

''Dumbledore obliviated him. He said nothing else could be done to him now. Said it's very hard to make a House-Elf forget his duty. So he did the best he could, then gave him clothes and a small coffer in the attic. He is under an anti-disapparition jinx, but anyway, Dumbledore has questioned him thoroughly and he's quite sure he doesn't remember anything,'' Ron explained. ''Here, that's our room.''

Harry recognised the room he had slept in many occasion last year. The damp wallpaper had not yet been completely changed, and the snake head decorating the bed pillars were reminiscent of the previous style of the whole house. The painting of Phineas Nigellus, Sirius's great-great-grand-father and former Hogwarts Headmaster, was still there, but the canvas was empty at the moment. Near the bed, Harry was surprised to see a desk full of books and parchments covered by the Ron's untidy handwriting. He eyed them so curiously than Ron felt compelled to provide an explanation.

''Ah those,'' he said, his face reddening slightly. ''Well, you know, McGonagall has told me that to become an Auror, I would need to follow a NEWT class in Potion, and Snape won't want me in his course. So I thought maybe if I have excellent NEWTs in all the other subjects, I'll be able to apply for Auror training anyway. I spoke with Hermione and she reckons doing a bit of extra-work can come handy, in case we meet those masked psychos again. So we have been working together since she has arrived. It can actually be quite fun. Do you want to join, I mean, we could continue the D.A. right?'' Harry told him he wanted nothing more than to continue the D.A. In fact, he thought Ron definitely had a point with the whole NEWT business. They both ended laughing heartily about the new curses they could learn, how they were going to organise the D.A. this year, and especially the wide variety of names they called Snape, hoping dearly he could not hear them from the meeting room.

''Anyway,'' said Harry after a while, ''what's up with everything here? I mean, what's Voldemort doing and what news from Azkaban and the Ministry?''

''Hum, it is quite mysterious,'' said Ron thoughtfully. ''You know, Voldemort's plans have been quite upset by the battle in the Ministry. He has lost his most faithful servants and the Ministry is now actively engaged in convincing people of the danger of the situation. There are rumours that Fudge has gave up the idea of ruling the Ministry. Some say he will resign any day now. That cannot be bad, mind you.''

''Hey, what are you guys up to, discussing the Second War in secret?'' asked a suddenly popping in Ginny. ''The meeting is almost over anyway and Tonks has told me we were all invited to a little chat. I tell you Harry, there's some use you being here. It's the first time we were all invited, usually we have to eat Changeling Chewing-gum and pretend we're someone else, but Mad-Eye always does us in.''

''I'm coming right after you,'' said Harry. ''I just need to put down some stuff here.'' Harry watched Ron and Ginny leave with a smile on his face. He wondered for a while how he would have managed had he not met Ron in first year. ''Well, I never would have found Platform nine and three-quarters and that would have been it,'' he thought, remembering with some nostalgia the young and witless wizard he was. Just when he thought he had finished unpacking, something attracted his attention on Ron's desk. Amidst the parchment covered with notes on Transfiguration and Charms was a golden letter accompanied by a flashing photography of two wizards in beautiful shining cloaks, relaxing in front of a splendid manor while a strangely-looking house-elf was serving them a cocktail. Harry could not help to read the letter and was not completely surprised to recognise the same kind of advertisement he had had few days ago. Only this time it read:

Feeling down? Feeling poor?
Drink from the Fountain of Wealth
One sip from the Fountain of Wealth, and you'll be rich for the rest of the day!
Order now, from the Fountain of Enchantment
4563 Wizard Spring, Hogsmeade

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This document was translated from L^AT_EX by H^EV^EA.