By the Will of Frozen Water

Chapter 1 : The Coming of the Redheads

A usual morning at the Dursley's household. Harry awoke from the screeching of Hedwig outside his bedroom window. His head ached from all the reading he stayed up for last night. It was just after sunrise, which means Harry only got about four hours of sleep. Lazily he stretched and crawled out of the comforts of his bed. Hedwig was impatiently screeching, waiting for Harry to open the window for her.

"Quiet Hedwig, you'll wake uncle Vernon!" Harry hissed. Carefully sliding th window open, he was startled by Hedwig's urgency to get in. She flapped her wings frantically, bolting into the room, nearly knocking Harry off his feet. She crash-landed onto his bed letting out one final screech and stuck out her foot with two parchment scrolls attached to it. Finally, Harry thought, Ron and Hermione haven't written to me since the beginning of summer.

All signs of previous sleepiness lost, Harry ran over to Hedwig, hastily untying the letters from her leg. Hedwig gave him an expecting look at which Harry tossed her some treats. With a satisfied snap of her beak, the snowy owl ate the snack and flew away.

Harry opened the first letter. He recognized Ron Weasley's chicken scratch-like handwriting right away.

Hey Harry,

I'm sorry I did not send you a gift for your birthday, but we have something big waiting for you at the Burrow. Too big to send. I'm sure you will like this much better than some cheesy souvenir anyways. Tell the Durleys that we will come for you in a day or so, and you are going to spend the rest of your holidays with us. I actually don't care what they say, but mum made me tell you to notify them. Hermione will come later, because she is stuck at home till her aunt goes back to wherever she came from. I finally got a new broomstick. Fred and George bought me a FIREBOLT Harry! Now we have matching brooms. Mum wants to know if you are eating well, but I don't think that's a reasonable question, since we all know the answer to that. Darn Dursleys. By the way, when you come here, don't be frightened. Dad's found himself a new muggle toy: the micromawave or something. Please explain it to him and thus put him out of his misery. Guess I'll be seeing you later then. Prepare yourself for a big, huge surprise.

Your best friend, Ron.

Curiosity overtook Harry and he scrambled Hermione's letter open to see if maybe, just maybe, she would include a bit more about the "big surprise" awaiting at the Burrow. Her leter was pretty much the same, though, from Hermione's perspective (obviously). She also included some details about her mysterious aunt. Her name was Gladys and she came from Wales. With a sigh, Harry put the letters away, and went to the bathroom to brush his teeth and otherwise prepare himself for the day to come. He still had about three hours before the Dursleys would begin to wake up. He decided to finish his homework before then, so that uncle Vernon would be in a relatively good mood, not being further reminded of wizarding things.

***

In the middle of breakfast, uncle Vernon suddenly received an urgent phone call from work. Harry was glad that he did not have to see his uncle for the rest of the day. Just one less Dursley to cope with, Harry thought.

The day was uneventful, if you don't count the time that Dudley walked into a wall while staring at aunt Petunia's unfinished piece of cake, causing the wall to chip in some places.

Harry's mood went exceedingly up after the wall incident, but plummeted right down when Petunia accused him of finding "poor Duddykins' unfortunate mishap" humorous. She sent him off to bed without dinner, although there was still quite some time before Harry would actually go to sleep. Not that Harry was too hungry anyway. He was up in his room when he heard his uncle come back. He heard the door slam shut and Vernon grumble something about changing into dry clothes. Apparently he got caught in the sudden thunderstorm. Then came the dreaded moment when Vernon found out about the evening's incident.

"...so Duddykins gets hurt and the boy LAUGHS!?" Harry heard Petunia screech. Oh dear. Here it comes.

"BOY!!!" Vernon's bellow came like the long awaited swoosh of a guillotine, "Get down here this instant!!"

Harry dragged his feet across the floor knowing what awaited him in the kitchen; a good telling off if he's lucky, and seeing the mood that Vernon was in, he'd probably get a beating.

"Hurry it up will you? You should move faster if you know what's good for yeh...I don't have all evening to discipline you!!"

Harry came into the kitchen coming face to face with his pudgy uncle. Face red as a tomato, Uncle Vernon lost the advantage to tower over Harry, as at 16, Harry was a head taller than Vernon, which made Vernon further ticked off.

"Who do you think you are, boy?" Vernon puffed through clenched teeth.

"How many times do I have to tell you, that as long as you live under my roof, you do as I say, and I say that whatever concerns my SON, does not concern YOU! You are nothing! You are scum! Why, if you keep this up, I would be none the shorter of glad to toss you RIGH OUT! Where would you go then huh?" he spat with a malicious smile.

Harry looked at him with wide-eyed innocence, blinking occasionally, and responding with "yes uncle Vernon", "I understand", or "Won't happen again." He learned to tune his uncle out during the many years of verbal abuse. With a slap on the arm, Harry was told to get out of sight, which he did without hesitation. Disappearing into his room for a prolonged period of time was one of the things Harry was very good at when he was in this house.

Harry took out his broomstick servicing kit, deciding to add some finishing touches to his broom before going to bed. He fell asleep with the happy thoughts of seeing his best friends again in a short while. Soon, he drifted into a dreamless, peaceful sleep. He left the window open, so Hedwig would let herself in the next morning without disturbing his sleep. With hope, he may sleep till nine, but that would only happen if Vernon and Petunia slept in; not a likely thing to happen.

***

The morning went by quietly. Harry ate his porridge fast, making as little eye contact as possible to avoid further discussion of his behavior last night. While he washed the dishes he thought over different ways of telling his aunt and uncle that yet again, he would soon leave with the Weasleys. It's happened for the past three summers, Harry thought, why should this one be any different? Just then an angry bark of an order interrupted his train of thought.

"Turn off the bloody water boy, you'll floor the house!" Uncle Vernon barked from the table. Only then Harry realized that he had been scrubbing the air with his sponge. The rest of the dishes were long washed and on the drying rack.

Harry approached Aunt Petunia since she was a bit more pleasant this morning.

"Erm, Aunt Petunia..." Harry began but was interrupted.

"What is it? Can't you see I'm busy?" Petunia cut him off while folding a dirty bed sheet and tossing it into the laundry basket.

"Well," Harry continued, not feeling so confident anymore, "I just wanted to say that you won't have to stand anymore of me this summer. The Weasleys will be picking me up yet again. Oh, and very soon too, I should add." He gulped and took in a fairly large amount of air. Aunt Petunia gave him a quizzical look before turning her attention back to the laundry basket.

"Oh, the Weasleys! The red-headed freak circus, right? Well, you go on and pack then. The sooner, the better. And make sure that no neighbor sees them. Your uncle and I already have enough trouble covering up for you. I don't need any more." With that she walked out of Dudley's room and into her own.

***

Harry looked at the clock. 16:00 blinked at him with bright red numbers. He had already finished packing and was waiting impatiently for the Weasleys' arrival. He did not know whether they would be coming this day or the next, but he certainly hoped it would be this day. He didn't know what else to do, where else to go. He hated it here. As if on cue, the doorbell rang about ten times. He recognized this as a typical misuse of the doorbell that could only belong to the Weasley family. Eyes flashing, he ran down the stairs. They're here.

Harry rushed past a dumbstruck Uncle Vernon who was about to open the door. Almost crashing into it, Harry stopped abruptly flinging it open. Three very familiar red heads were beaming at him from his front porch.

"Harry, dear! We've missed you so," Mrs. Weasley's overjoyed motherly voice sounded as she threw herself onto Harry, almost squeezing the life out of him with her mighty hug. "Go on now, bring your bags. We'll wait for you out here," she said finally letting Harry go, letting him catch his breath.

"OH not you won't!" Uncle Vernon roared from inside the house.

"We have enough problems without you, you, PEOPLE," he spat the last word, "giving the neighbours the impression that we associate with the likes of you!" By the time he was done, Harry came scrambling down the staircase with his trunk and Hedwig's cage. He set them down onto the porch with a loud bang.

"Well uncle, guess it's goodbye till next summer. Don't miss me too much," said Harry with a sly smile.

With an angry huff Vernon slammed the door in Harry's face. Harry just shrugged and turned to Mr. Weasley, "How will we be getting to the Burrow this time sir?" he asked but before Arthur Weasley had any time to answer, Ron proudly stuck out his chest.

"Portkey of course! It was my idea, and since dad works at the ministry, he arranged this spoon to get us here and back."

And so, holding on to his belongings with one hand, and to the spoon with the other, Harry smiled as he felt the familiar tug on his navel as the portkey transported them to their destination.

Harry arrived somewhat gracefully at the burrow, which was more than one could say for his luggage. His trunk and Hedwig's cage came tumbling with great speed. While everyone headed for the shabby old house, Harry ran the opposite way, chasing his belongings.

***

During dinner, the Weasleys seemed to be communicating telepathically or in some way unknown to Harry. They sat there quietly with glints in their eyes. The only spoken words were "pass the potatoes" and "thank you." Harry began a conversation with Ron, but it died down quickly, as talking created a strange sense of discomfort.

When the last fork fell to the table and everyone thanked Mrs. Weasley for a wonderful meal, Ginny startled Harry by unexpectedly grabbing him by the arm and dragging him away. At first, he followed silently but soon came to his senses and stopped in his tracks looking at her quizzically. She prompted him to go on but he was frozen on one spot.

"Hey Gin, why the urgency? I was about to go unpack. Can this wait?" She just shook her head, grabbed his arm once more, and continued to pull him. With a shrug, Harry gave in and followed.

They came to a small hut outside. Ginny kept leading Harry, but quickened her pace.

"Would you slow down?" Harry asked in a somewhat annoyed tone, "whatever it is, I have a feeling it's not that urgent."

"Oh stop whining, will you? Besides, it's just on the other side of the hut."

Having said that, Ginny was rather pleased with herself. Just a little while ago, she would not have had the courage to say that to him.

They came around the bend and approached something big and bulky covered by a large piece of blue drapery. Ginny let go of Harry's arm and ran to the object flinging the fabric off.

'Happy birthday Harry!" She squealed, revealing what was under the drapery.

She stood there smiling so hard, you'd think the corners of her mouth were sewn to her ears. "Sirius wanted you to have it..ohh.."

Harry stood there with a blank expression on his face. Then his jaw dropped. Not that he had anything against having his own flying motorcycle. Oh no. That was great. It was the whole fact that this used to belong to Sirius. The reminder of his late godfather hit him like a cannonball in the stomach. He was never able to convey emotions too well. Ginny saw his face change from shock to pain the moment she said Sirius's name. She approached him, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Oh, Harry! I am so sorry. You must feel absolutely dreadful! It's just that...well, we promised him, Harry. Promised! And now, especially now, we couldn't break the promise, Harry." She hung her head. She could only guess how much that had hurt him.

"No, no. I'm quite all right. Lovely present, Ginny. I have to go now." He muttered. He knew he shouldn't hold it against her, but the pain she just caused him was just about the worst thing Harry ever felt. He was once again filled with the memories. The scene played over and over in his head like a broken record. The laugh, the red flash, the look on Sirius's face. The swish of the Veil. Stupid, stupid, STUPID Ginny..NO! He stalked up the stairs and went into the room that was set for him ever since his first visit. He had no intention of talking to anybody until he could make any sound other than the heavy gasps for air that came out of him at the moment.

Up in the room, he found the peace and quiet he longed for. Harry began to tidy his things that had become disorganized while his trunk tumbled after the portkey journey. He did not like re-organizing his things, but he needed something to take his mind off Sirius. He hastily dumped everything out of the trunk and began folding his clothing and flipping through his books, arranging them by size.

Folding and re-arranging clothes and books did not help much. Harry was still bitter. The only thing that was on Harry's mind was how different everything would be if Sirius was still here. Maybe, he thought, just maybe there is a way to bring him back. Interrupting that thought, Ron came into the room and seemed to bring in a barely noticeable scent of hot, molten metal.

"What're ya doing Harry?" Ron asked rather lamely.

Ginny told him about what had happened at the hut and he wanted to see how Harry was taking it. He just couldn't pick the right words to start a conversation with.

The sudden sound of Ron's question broke Harry's silence, and banished the growing smell of the hot metal. Harry decided that he spent enough time being cranky, and, after all, it wasn't Ron's fault. Or Ginny's for that matter. He put on a fake, but rather convincing smile.

"I just finished cleaning up my trunk. I don't want to unpack. Seems kind of pointless, but it needed cleaning. You remember what happened when we came here? How it rolled?"

Then he remembered the smell and decided to ask. "Hey, Ron, you said your father was playing with microwaves."

"Is that what you call them?"

"Yes. Now...did you dad burn anything in the process?" Ron looked confused.

He didn't understand how you could burn anything with a plastic box.

"Oh never mind. I just thought I smelled something odd. Must have imagined it. Anyway, how is Ginny? I haven't offended her, have I?"

"Ginny's fine. Do come down for supper though, or mums going to get offended. She already thinks you're malnourished." Ron finished as he opened the door.

Harry smiled, genuinely this time though. Molly Weasley was the worrisome mother he never had. Well, had, but could not remember as she had died long before his memory had developed.

"You go. I'll catch up in a minute. I'd like to change." With a nod, Ron patted Harry on the shoulder, turned towards the door and left the room.

Harry could hear him descend the stairs. He changed from his regular clothes into something homier and followed Ron's path out of his room, and down the stairs into the Weasleys' dining room.