The Shadows of His Past

Disclaimer:

Okay, you know the drill. Anything in the Harry Potter books that isn´t anywhere else belongs to J.K Rowling and all I can do is borrow them and force them to obey me. Right? ::general murmur of agreement from Harry Potter characters:: Grr! Right? ::grabs Harry:: Answer me or Harry gets it! ::Ginny begins throwing a fit:: Calm down, Ginny! You know I wouldn´t hurt anyone ::coughs, except Rita Skeeter::

Mars is Bright Tonight

By Sabrina Clarke & Edited by Fiona Chan

"Harry! Harry?" called a distant voice anxiously, shaking him roughly by the shoulders. Even his own name seemed unfamiliar to him as it echoed strangely inside of his head.

Harry blinked several times as everything around him slowly came into focus- each outline surrounded by an almost ethereal milky glow. In the hazy fog, he saw a bit of gold glittering above him. The Snitch! He reached out to grab it, but his arms felt leaden. In fact, all of him felt as though he was in a full body bind. A strange tingling followed each muscle movement. As his vision cleared, he found himself staring into a pair of bright, piercing blue eyes, framed by golden half-moon spectacles.

Harry suddenly felt awake, sitting up abruptly he breathed in relief, and "It´s you Professor Dumbledore!" he began, then stopped, and stared around his unfamiliar surroundings, in dizzying confusion, "What just happened?"

"You know your scar hurts when Voldemort is near and when he is feeling especially hateful," said Dumbledore quite coolly, although, as each wrinkle defined itself on his face, he looked quite old and strained. Holding out an aged hand he pulled Harry to his feet, "...Rest assure, young Harry, that Voldemort is far from here." He stood silent for a moment and muttered, "Far enough." With that he unrolled a copy of the Daily Prophet. Harry once more cast a wary eye around the mysterious hooded figures in the room and looked questioningly at Dumbledore.

"Professor I-" he trailed off and tried to think of a polite way to say, who are these people who look remarkably like Death Eaters or might actually be them and what the hell are you doing with them? but it came out as, "So... erm, nice place you got here."

Dumbledore merely smiled, although Harry was sure that Dumbledore had understood his unasked question. Harry strained his eyes to see who were the hooded figures, but the dim light of the tavern only vaguely illuminated their eyes, which glittered in the semi-darkness, "Harry, what did you hear, just now?" he asked, quite kindly, drawing Harry`s attention from the silent and motionless people surrounding him.

Harry looked uneasily around the cluster of hooded people, once more, and sighed, as no one seemed to want to explain their presence. His eyes wandered around the bar, taking in the nicked, stained tables and chairs moved to the sides of the room so the people could congregate in the center. Even in this this strange environment, he felt safe, "I didn´t hear much, except for screaming. He was killing muggles. " The entire room pervaded with silence and many covered eyes flickered to the empty spaces in the circle. No more needed to be said.

Snape coughed, breaking the uncomfortable silence, "Now Potter, if you would be so kind as to tell us about your dream."

Harry looked surprised and stammered, "I-I didn´t dream, Professor Snape." He looked around uneasily as he heard the dingy room filled with ominous muttering. Something was wrong.

Snape glowered at Harry, with the special expression of malevolence reserved just for him. "As I said, Headmaster, the boy is of no use to us," he sneered, "Or, perhaps, he merely wishes to keep his thoughts to himself. Modest are we, Potter?" he smiled as though what he had just said was laughable, "Tut-tut, a Potter modest?"

Dumbledore frowned at Professor Snape, silencing him, "Ah, Harry, forgive me for waking you up at this hour." He turned to the group and shrugged, "I was wrong." He looked pointedly at Snape. The masked faces muttered to one another.

"I believe that, perhaps, we should have gotten the other one, Albus-," muttered Arabella Figg respectfully, but with a concealed tone of familiarity.

"What other one?" interrupted Dumbledore sharply, looking up. Ms. Figg opened her mouth to answer, but Harry had just about enough.

He cut in quickly, "Where am I? Professor, what`s going on..."? He stopped suddenly as Dumbledore´s benign eyes wore an expression of sorrow.

"You´ve been far too long cut off from the magical community, Harry...the game is afoot, the Death Eaters and Voldemort-" he paused and Harry was surprised to see that no one flinched at the sound of the name, "have wreaked havoc and chaos on the stability we have tried to rebuild during his absence." He sighed very sadly, "They wanted me for the Minister of Magic, Harry, and I refused them. I was selfish; I did not want to leave Hogwarts. I thought I could work with Fudge as my supporter, but now I realize what I have done." with that Dumbledore handed Harry the paper. Mrs. Figg walked up slowly and whispered to Dumbledore, who shook his head.

Harry read the titles, "FUDGE ABDICATES MINISTER OF MAGIC POSITION, OVERWORKED MINISTRY TRIES TO HIDE KILLINGS FROM MUGGLES, and MUGGLE & WIZARD DEATH NOTICES. He gasped at the numerous moving, black-and-white pictures of the Dark Mark and tearful people. He looked up.

"All this has happened?"

"Yes, Harry, all this has happened and more. In two months, Voldemort has destroyed all that has taken us 15 years to repair. So now we need you," said Dumbledore gravely.

"Me?"

"Yes, Harry, you," said another hooded figure lowering his hood and stepping into the prominence of the single light bulb lighting the dingy room. Under this spotlight, his waxy skin looked even paler and his long matted hair shone with a greasy texture, made him look very vampire-like. Harry smiled- it was Sirius.

"Sirius!" he said, smiling brightly, "I´m so happy to see you!" He reached out to embrace his godfather, but Sirius held him back.

"I´m not," said Sirius shortly, "Harry I hoped you were safe, but-"

Dumbledore raised a warning hand, frowning slightly. "Desperate times, desperate measures."

"Harry, we have taken you out of safety to come to the most dangerous place you could possibly be," stated Dumbledore gravely, "These people...they are the Anti-Death Eaters- the Order of the Phoenix, and it is our first meeting in many years. Should anyone disloyal be in this group we would all be as good as dead." Harry stole a sideways glance at Snape, but his face was expressionless- an odd mixture of rapt attention and cool indifference. Many shuffled their feet mumbling ominously, some looked helplessly and hopelessly at Dumbledore.

"Dumbledore, it has not come to this?" cried a scraggly man with moth-eaten robes, in desperation, "Surely, things are not back to they way the have been! Has all we worked for in those dark years amounted to nothing?" Many shrouded heads bobbed in agreement.

"Look at these pictures, Mundungus Fletcher! The truth is not hidden!" cried Professor Snape grabbing the paper from Harry´s hand and waving it around.

"Yes, because we were missing one thing...you, Harry." said Dumbledore, "One day, you remember. It was the day Cedric died..." Harry felt the pressure of Sirius´ hand on his shoulder, "It wasn´t your fault, Harry," Sirius whispered.

Harry shook his head as Dumbledore continued, "When Voldemort took your blood, you did not realize its significance. I did, but did not know of its meaning, so I consulted my pensieve." he indicated the stone basin besides him. "Your blood is special. Do you remember what you learned about the power of unicorn blood? Drink it, it gives immortality, but at the price of misery. So will befall Voldemort. Now not only is there the curse that failed, but the blood that has united you. Voldemort is now human enough to die."

"We are here to protect you and now because of that potion that Voldemort made; you will be his downfall as well as his savior. He knows that and is not prepared to take a risk. He will kill you. Remember always, CONSTANT VIGILANCE! Without that- you will die!" A man with grizzled hair and a grey stubbled face barked, emerging from the shadows with a clunk, clunk. His name was Alastor Moody.

Harry shivered as they all looked uneasily at him. They were trusting the livelihood of the entire magical community, in him. "I´m ready," he swallowed.

"Harry, were not asking you to do anything, but keep an eye out," said Mrs. Figg sternly giving him the same penetrating glare as Dumbledore, "You don´t know what he´s capable of-"

Harry interrupted, "I think I do. Voldemort killed my parents remember?"

An uncomfortable silence stifled the mutterings in the room and many looked sadly, once more, at the empty spaces in the circle.

Dumbledore looked sternly at Harry over the end of his half-moon spectacles, as though measuring him up with his penetrating blue eyes. As the meeting came to a close, many surveyed Harry with doom-laden expressions reminiscent to the looks Professor Trelawney gave him. Dumbledore sighed again and handed Harry the newspaper again, saying, "Read it and remember, constant vigilance!"

At last the effects of sleep seemed to be dawning on him as through half-lidded eyes he heard Sirius whisper to Dumbledore, "Why didn´t you tell him the everything?" Before he could ask what this meant, Mrs. Figg thrust a whoopee cushion in his hand and he felt that familiar pull behind his navel.

****

His wand fell to the floor with an echoing clatter. Draco heard cries. He blinked. Another cry. He turned away. A gentle knock. A whispered word.

"Good night Draco."

"Good night, mother."

Screaming. He pushed his head deeper into his pillow. Another scream. It didn´t help that his bedroom was situated right next to the drawing room. More screams. His hands tentatively ran across his carpeted floor. Searching. He picked up his wand. Good night, father. Another scream. Mercy! Laughing. Sweet dreams. With a lethargic swish he soundproofed his walls. He ought to have done so earlier. Sometimes the screams of those in torment would lull him to sleep in a lullaby of misery. Not tonight. And he turned over and pulled his blankets around him tightly.

****

"AARGHH!" yelled Harry, sitting up abruptly as claws viciously digging into his quilt rudely awakened him. "Gerroff," he growled, groggily dislodging the hissing animal. He looked around, the room was in a haze and looked unfamiliar with rustic decorations and a vague smell of cats. He rubbed his eyes and reached out blindly to see if his glasses were resting nearby. "Argh!" he muttered angrily as he slipped off his bed and landed on the floor with a dull thump.

"Good morn´n, Harry. I´m sorry if little Mr. Tufty scared you," laughed a highly amused voice as she saw Harry slumped on the ground still groping blindly for his glasses. With that Mrs. Figg emerged, readjusting the light pink hand-knit shawl around her shoulders. "Not that a precious little creature like you could ever scare anyone," she cooed lifting the white cat and touching noses gently with it. Staring at her, Harry once more tried to connect the powerful, slightly odd, sorceress of last night with this vulnerable, demure old lady. "Ooh! Mr. Tufty, mommy knitted you an ickle sweater!" Okay, well she´s still slightly odd.

"Mrs. Figg! Where am I?" sputtered Harry looking, once more, around the strange room and finally seeing a black blur that just might be his glasses. He reached out-

"MEE-OW!" and Harry felt a stinging sensation as another cat raked his hand with its needle-like claws. I hate cats.

Mrs. Figg tutted at Harry and clucked sympathetically at the kitten.

"Well, Harry, we know of the difficulty..." she smirked at him lying entangled in his sheets on the floor, "...you would have getting here, on your own, so I took the liberty of renting you a room in the Leaky Cauldron. I was just in the parlor room and came in when I heard you making a fuss and scaring the little darling kitties." She cleared her throat, "Let me know if you need any help." She handed him his glasses and remarked half seriously as she left the room, "We´ll need to keep an eye on you."

Harry looked around the room once more and unfolded the issue of the Daily Prophet that Dumbledore had given him the night before. He tentatively ran his fingers across his scar. Nothing; but his head was throbbing as though he had just fallen fifty feet off a broomstick.

Harry stared, dumbfounded, at the cover of the Daily Prophet, it read:

Fudge Abdicates Minister of Magic Position

By Catherine Pennifold

There has been a recent and unanimous uproar against former Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge. Living the life of the famous, with his expensive, unique dress and lavishness of living, he seems to have repaid the magical community for its generosity by abandoning it. "We wanted a leader and turned to him, and he deserted us when we needed him most," says disgruntled Junior Minister of Magical Catastrophes, Martin Dingle.

Fudge had reportedly gained millions of galleons from the support of wizard folk and many illegitimate charities and funds. He suddenly disappeared at the advent of the rise of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. The reason for this sudden action remains unknown. A magical psychologist of St. Mungo´s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, who chooses to be anonymous, stated, "The Imperius Curse is ruled out as no one noticed any abnormal behavior or actions before he left. He probably realized that he wasn´t man enough for the job and abandoned ship."

While the community of the United Kingdom remains in chaos, many search for someone capable to fill this position. Most widely acknowledged as the best man for the job is Albus Dumbledore, the current Headmaster of Hogwarts, the famous school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Also, he is acclaimed for his defeat of the Dark Wizard Grindelwald in 1945. Many hope that his previous experience in dealing with the Dark Arts can aid the Magical Community once more. Another popular candidate is Lucius Malfoy, leader of a very powerful and wealthy family; Malfoy donated large sums to excellent causes. After the fall of You-Know-Who, he quickly rose through the Ministry after his entrance in 1975 and is now the Minister of the Department of Mysteries. While his actions in this department are unknown, he lives a respectable life and has pioneered in Wizard rights; unlawful search, and his efforts resulted in previous records ignored in the court of justice and many others. The magical community remains divided amongst these candidates; however, many still fear abandonment from an unworthy candidate elected and are hesitant to cast a deciding vote.

Harry stared at the large picture of Fudge on the cover of the Daily Prophet in shock. He tried to envision this pompous man ditching the magic-folk of the United Kingdom, when its need was most desperate. His eyes skimmed over the Death Notices (magical and Muggle) and silently cursed the turmoil that everything was in. This was all Voldemort; Voldemort ruined their lives, and mine too, he thought furiously, rubbing his eyes. In his head, he heard Hagrid´s voice describing Voldemort to him, "Gulpin´ gargoyles, Harry, people are still scared. Blimey, this is difficult...All right-Voldemort. Don´ make me say it again. Anyway, this-this wizard about twenty years ago started lookin´ fer followers. Got ´em too- some were afraid, some jus´ wanted a bit o´ his power, ´cause he was getting´ himself power, all right. Dark days, Harry. Didn´t know who ter trust, didn´t dare get friendly with strange wizards o´ witches...terrible things happened. He was takin´ over..." And now those days have returned, Harry thought miserably as another glittering picture of the Dark Mark reflected off of his round glasses. And he´s after me.

He flipped absently through the paper- bad news, bad news... He continued flipping until he reached the comics, and gave a half-hearted laugh at the moving caricatures. Hagrid´s words echoed dismally in his head, "Terrible things happened. He was takin´ over..." Harry closed the paper in dismay and flung it angrily at his night table. He looked at the paper curiously as he saw a piece of paper poking out, differently colored from the gray and slightly wrinkled newsprint. Reaching out, he extracted the piece and stared.

It wasn´t part of the Daily Prophet, it seemed to be a piece torn from a newsletter called the North Star. On it, in hastily scribbled curly writing that Harry recognized as Dumbledore´s, it read:

Harry,

Mars is bright tonight. Lucky, for dark nights are always unpleasant.

Especially for strangers who travel.

The clouds are heavy.

A storm is approaching.

Harry read the letter over and over again until he had it memorized, wondering what it meant. He crawled out of bed and approached the window, staring at the muggle traffic below him and looked up to see the sun shining brightly above him. The clouds are heavy...the clouds are heavy... His thoughts were interrupted, by a tapping on his window as right in front of him he saw his owl, Hedwig tapping anxiously at the window.

"Hedwig!" he said in surprise, "that was quick!" and quickly tore open the letter.

Harry,

Mom says that Dumbledore won´t let you come over. I asked Dad and he says he doesn´t know why. Too bad. Did you blow up your Aunt again? Everyone, especially Ginny, says hi. Even if you don´t get to come over, we´ll be able to see you a week before term starts to get our Hogwarts stuff. I´m giving you my birthday present early since I´ll be going to visit family most of the summer. It´s a bag of Fred and George´s specialty dung bombs and some extra ton-tongue toffee´s. Dudley beware! I might as well wish you a happy birthday early, too. I´ll send you an owl as soon I get back from Wales. Don´t let the Muggles give you any trouble! If they do I´ll send Fred and George out to hex them. I might not have to, you could have already. Oh yeah, Fred and George are setting up their own joke shop now in Hogsmeade, it´s called, "

The Revenge of the Weasels." that sells their own specialty stuff (you know "Weasley´s Wizard Wheezes") Mum doesn´t care, what with You- Know-Who on the loose, she thinks a joke shop is safe enough for her ickle twins (even if they´re running it). Just in case, beware any lollipops, potato chips, and club soda that anyone gives you. Send a reply with Pig A.S.A.P so I get it before I leave to visit my relatives.

Bye-

Ron

P.S Have you heard anything from Hermione? She hasn´t responded since the beginning of June.

Harry unwrapped the package and inside were several brightly-wrapped ton-tongue toffees with several tiny dung bombs. With a smile, he carelessly threw the package on the floor, but one of them exploded, releasing a putrid, thick black smoke. He coughed and sputtered. More disgusting then usual, he thought. He got up from his bed and opened a window, releasing the smelly air into the muggle traffic below. Not that they would notice, with all that thick exhaust.

"Anything you need?" said Mrs. Figg abruptly as she ran into the room. She stopped and surveyed the foggy room and the broken and twisted remains of the Dungbomb lying on the floor. She raised an eyebrow.

Harry nodded. "I could use something to eat," he muttered, his stomach growling, "I´ll be going back right?"

"Yes, but only for about a week or so, but I´ll come over and bring you back here to Diagon Alley, to get your Hogwarts stuff." She muttered a spell, raised her wand and shot a silver streak carelessly.

"Ow!" yelled Harry angrily, rubbing his forehead.

"What Harry? Is your scar giving you pain? Are you okay? Do you need anything?" asked Mrs. Figg worriedly.

"No, your stupid spell hit me in the head," he growled, continuing to massage his head.

"Oh well." She seemed almost disappointed. "Here´s your letter for Hogwarts, everything´s there; list of books, permission slip, ticket etc...You´ll have no problem getting on the train, I presume?" she snapped, pursing her lips, "No more, shall we say, creative means of getting to Hogwarts?"

Harry, at first, looked shocked then smiled at Mrs. Figg´s mischievous gray eyes, "Yeah, no problem," he remarked casually remembering the regrettable incident of the Weasley´s flying Ford Anglia in second year.

"Well, you can´t be trusted, anyway, so for the last week of your stay, the ministry official´s will ensure that you are safely board the train, on September first. In the meantime, the Headmaster has entrusted you back into the care of the Dursleys-" She smirked. "-as Professor Snape made it quite clear that you manage to find trouble everywhere," she paused and raised an eyebrow at him trying to clean up the burn marks on floor made by the dungbomb, "Assuming that you have matured since last here?"

Harry kept his face blank in feigned innocence, "No trouble here." He grinned, trouble usually finds me and I can be blamed for what happens afterwards, he thought.