Harry Potter and the Trail of Stars

THE COURAGE AND BRAVERY OF THE SQUIB

It was 6:00 A.M. in the morning, and Harry Potter had just woken up. 'It was just a dream,' he first thought. 'No...It was a bad dream. It was a nightmare!' he thought again. He scratched his head, and looked out the window. It seemed the proper thing to do. There wasn't a window in there before, but somehow, a window was there. Harry decided that he hadn't seen properly, as his glasses weren't on. 'No...It wasn't just a nightmare,' he thought again, thinking it over. 'It was a vision of the Present of somewhere else.'

It was blurry around his room, and Harry could hardly see a thing. He reached for his glasses. Realizing that he had slept on the floor, and that there was no table in there, he crawled on all fours, feeling for his glasses. 'What would I do without my glasses?' he thought. The Dursleys surely wouldn't buy him another pair. It was extremely nice of them to buy him this pair of glasses, which he wore for as long as he can remember...though not before his memory of his parents' death...

His hands brushed against something hard. He picked it up. His glasses! He quickly put them on, and looked out the window. 'So there was a window, and...it was raining...red sparks? How was that possible' he thought. Then it came to him. Last night...it wasn't a dream either. It had really happened.

It was the most reasonable thing to do at this moment. He would write down all the details of last night. What about his dream from his morning? Yes, he would have to tell Dumbledore about this too. He turned to get a piece of parchment and quill, and began to write...

Dear Professor Dumbledore,

Sorry to bother you but the most extraordinary thing happened last night, and I had a weird dream this morning.

How would he start writing about those things? Then he realized something...Something that he had not realized before...He could he have been so stupid? He couldn't tell anyone about what happened! He could not even tell anyone of his mistreatment, let alone this! His owl was still caged! The cage was still locked! And...And...It was un-pickable! He could not use magic to get her out. He couldn't even use Muggletricks to get her out! He glanced over furiously at Hedwig, as though suddenly expecting her to understand and bite the cage door apart, but she was still fast asleep under her right wing. He then realized the stupidity of his thoughts.

It was time to face the facts.

One...He was alone. All alone.

Two...His owl was locked in her cage.

Three...He was not allowed send any letters for weeks.

Four...His young life was almost over. He would be the one to die under Lord Voldemort's killing curse. He had remembered what he had done to the weather, and shuddered.

Five...He had no way of contacting his friends to tell them the life threatening news.

Six...His scar was now hurting in a non-stop basis. He felt Voldemort's emotions and his own emotions at the same time.

Seven...He had just remembered most of the contents of his recent dream. Voldemort was in a gleeful mood. Harry felt it through his connections.

Voldemort had changed the weather just by talking to it! (He glanced outside. It was still thunder-storming.) Voldemort had a private conversation with Lucius Malfoy about something important that Harry could not overhear because of a Speech Bubble. They came out looking extremely secretive. Ha! 'Voldemort couldn't even trust all his supporters to tell them something really important,' thought Harry, wanting to laugh, but finding his throat very dry.

Voldemort and some Death Eaters have tortured a woman. But who was it? He still remembered the painful screams coming from her. Harry shivered. 'So,' he thought, 'The Malfoy Manor is the current residing place of Voldemort.' He couldn't imagine facing the younger Malfoy this year. Suddenly, Harry tensed. Didn't Voldemort make Draco a spy for him? Oh no! He must find a way to tell Dumbledore, but he couldn't. And who the hell was Cyran and Kelly-what's-her-name?

Narcissa Malfoy. Harry's mood was lightened by the image of Narcissa Malfoy trembling like crazy. He then saw something else from his dream. THE ELF! Kreacher! Narcissa Malfoy would be his new true Master now that Sirius was...dead. Harry found feelings of sorrow and such sadness of his late Godfather, and despair of not being able to tell them this important news. Kreacher was no longer bound to them. He would be able to tell the Order's secrets!

Harry focused himself on every single detail he could find cramped inside his brain. It took a moment.

He saw Voldemort chant a spell to bring the terrible weather. He saw the dark clouds gathering and swirling and the roaring wind and lightning. He saw Voldemort saying the final fatal words. He saw the woman's despair and honor of dying the way his parents did...brave...He saw the huge lightning bolt zoom towards the woman in slow motion. He watched the look on the woman's face, her realization that death was near. He watched as a Death Eater lurched himself into the path of the nearing lightning bolt, and pushing the woman away. He watched as the woman vanished at the Death Eater's touch. He watched as the Death Eater's mask was gone. He heard the horrible cries of the Death Eater as he began to burn up, flames tracing his form. He watched the outline of his face sprouted flames, and as the figure's head turned, the surrounding flames lighted up the Death Eater's face.

The Death Eater who gave his life for the woman was Snape! 'Goodness!' thought Harry. 'How could it be? Snape must have really been on Dumbledore's side. He had given his life for a woman who had been tortured by Voldemort. The woman surely must have also been on Dumbledore's side. She must have been a spy! And she had been found out. And this morning...Snape...no...Professor Snape...had also been found out...He didn't even have to be found out!'

With these thoughts in mind, he forgave Snape for every horrible thing he's done to him. Every nasty comment and unfairness. Snape had died with honor. Harry had never really given him any credit for what he had done for Harry secretively all these years. The counter curse against the bucking broom, the failing attempt to teach him Occlumency...'He had died unselfishly, like my parents giving their lives for me,' thought Harry. He had felt sadness for his professor, the late Potions Master, who died fighting for the Order. He had died fighting in this war. He died fighting against Voldemort. He would tell his friends and fellow Gryffindors. Snape died a hero's death. If anybody should recognize that, it was the daring heart of the Gryffindors. This much, Snape deserved. Who would be the new Potions Master at Hogwarts? Even Voldemort had said that Snape was the best Potions Master in all of Europe. Where would the school find such talent in the shimmering potions as Snape? No...Professor Snape.

Harry turned his thoughts to the events after the death. Azkaban. They were going to attack Azkaban tonight! And the Aurors would be distracted! Damn! How could things be so complicated? How could Harry know these things, and just wait for it to happen? He couldn't do a thing! His wand had been snapped. And he lived near nobody! He could tell nobody! He felt so useless! All the members of the Order of the Phoenix were sleeping right now, probably, somewhere in the midst of the Wizarding world.

Mrs. Figg! Yes! Harry mentally slapped himself for not thinking of this sooner. Mrs. Figg. How could he have forgotten about her? It must have been that the shock was too much that he forgot about Mrs. Figg. Yes, he would go over to her house right now. There was no time to lose. Going over all his thoughts, and what he would tell Mrs. Figg in proper English so that it would not be all babble to her, he put on his socks (the yellow one he had gotten for his birthday from the Dursleys birthdays ago. It was a moldy one of Uncle Vernon's) and shoes.

Harry quietly pushed open the door (the knob was off) and tip-toed to the entrance door, and turned the doorknob ever so softly. The door opened. It creaked. Uncle Vernon's snores could be heard all the way downstairs. He closed the door behind him, making sure it wasn't locked. Soon after, he stood completely outside. He took a deep breath (he hadn't done this for a while. It was time to test his speed), and ran (like those track professionals) all the way to old Mrs. Figg's house, non-stop. It was in hope that the Death Eaters and Dementors, if any, had seen him outside, he would overrun them. Harry knew he was being silly. The Death Eaters could stun him just like that. No need for them to run. But Harry figured that a fast moving target would be a harder target to hit than a still or slowing moving target. He was soon panting and out of breath. 'What do I need to breathe for?' thought Harry, 'I don't need to breathe.' He began panting for air.

After a couple of minutes, he reached Mrs. Figg's house, the familiar house with the cat smell. He lifted his arm, with all the strength he could muster. His arm lifted up about a foot...one more foot to go to reach the door...the door opened. Harry blinked. He certainly did not touch the door. 'Maybe Mrs. Figg saw me and opened the door.' Harry stepped inside, and saw Mrs. Figg walking towards him, in that those silly pink slippers.

"Harry?" asked Mrs. Figg, "What are you doing here? What happened to you?" She looked at the sweaty Harry, red faced and panting for breath.

Harry waited a moment to finish catching up his breath, and then talked fast. "Mrs. Figg! You're the only one I can talk to. I had a nightmare, a vision this morning right before I woke up!"

Mrs. Figg, who, like the other members of the Order knew about his visions and connections to Lord Voldemort. She only knew how important and vital his dreams were. It was a few days ago that Dumbledore had told her and the Order that Voldemort would not think about possessing Harry again, not even through his dreams. Now that Harry had a dream, it was impossible to ignore. With all other thoughts pushed aside, she told him to sit down and explain.

"It was Voldemort!" The old woman flinched. Harry brushed it aside and kept talking, hurriedly. "Snape!Pro-Professor Snape died. Voldemort was torturing a woman, and Snape sort of vanished her and put himself under the lightning bolt. The weather from early this morning. That was Voldemort. He did some kind of incantation and the weather became all horrible!" Harry shouted out all in one breath. Mrs. Figg was alarmed. Voldemort could control the weather? This was something new. She nodded and motioned for Harry to go on.

"After Snape died, the Death Eaters had a meeting. THEY'RE GOING TO ATTACK AZKABAN TONIGHT WHEN THEIR DARK MARK'S ARE BURNING ON THEIR LEFT ARMS!" shouted Harry. He had to make sure the old woman heard it right and clear. Mrs. Figg gave a terrified shriek. 'Azkaban! They were going to break into Azkaban and get the Death Eater prisoners! Dementors! They were going to gather the Dementors!' thought Mrs. Figg, almost having a heart attack, but held on for the world's sake.

"AND-AND VOLDEMORT IS STAYING AT THE MALFOY MANOR! I saw Narcissa Malfoy! The elf. THE ELF! KREACHER!"

Mrs. Figg nodded. "I do indeed know where the Grimmauld Place is, and I know about the elf. Caused the death of Sirius, didn't that nasty creature?" Harry nodded.

"And Voldemort...He-He...THE ELF ISN'T GOING TO OBEY THE RULES OF THE ORDER ANYMORE! Voldemort...He said that now that Sirius was dead, Narcissa Malfoy was the elf's rightful master now. SHE'S GOING TO GIVE THE ELF ORDERS FOR HIM TO SPY ON THE ORDER! THE ELF CAN'T BE TRUSTED!"

Harry practiced screamed that last part out. "And my scar doesn't stop hurting anymore. I'm feeling his emotions all the time now! Ever since this morning, he's been feeling extremely happy and when I saw him in my dream, he looked almost gleeful after he had spoken with Wormtail. He asked the rat if he saw anything peculiar last night, and the rat didn't. And then Voldemort said something about the Nine Awakening or something like that. Right after that, he had a talk with Lucius Malfoy, and something about Trelawney's prophecy being a fluke because Voldemort called on the Anathesti or something like that, and can never be killed! And then they talked about something secret. There was a Speech Bubble over them, so I couldn't hear what they had said. But they came out of it looking like they knew the biggest secret in the world."

"The Nine!" exclaimed Mrs. Figg, who knew a little about the constellation affecting the Magus Awakenings. Harry looked at Mrs. Figg, strangely. "Yes, Harry. The Nine is part of a constellation. I don't think I should tell you more now. This is extremely important. What you have said, what you have seen. Yes. It is time for drastic action. This can not wait. We must inform Albus of what happened."

"How? Do you have Floo powder? Cause my owl's locked up in this really secure cage. I tried all last night, but couldn't get it open. Uncle Vernon snapped my wand, so I can't use magic to get her out. I doubt you could."

"Your wand has been broken? Then we have no way of informing Dumbledore and the others."

"Then...There's no hope?" asked Harry.

"Hold on. Be quiet. I'm thinking," snapped Mrs. Figg, stressed out. She walked about the length of the room, back and forth in deep thought.

Moments of silence passed. Her cats seemed to be walking along with her.

"Harry I have thought of a way," came the voice of Mrs. Figg. Harry jumped, shocked from the sudden sound.

"What?" asked Harry, curious. Mrs. Figg looked uncomfortably at Harry.

"There is a way Harry, for Squibs to do limited magic. Before you talk, let me finish." Harry nodded.

"This is a dangerous and possibly fatal way. Harry, I must try this. There is no other way for us to communicate to anyone in the order. We were supposed to set up last year's system again, starting from tomorrow. Since you have just gotten back, none of us thought there would be trouble so soon. I was going to send Mr. Tibbles on the job first thing this morning for precaution. You bring ill news for the Order indeed. I cannot Apparate, as I am a Squib. However Harry, this calls for action. There is an ancient spell that I have memorized that will enable to me to mentally and spiritually Apparate to a place I desire. The Grimmauld Place. Nothing can get by in Hogwarts. Now, I know that I am a Squib, but you must know Harry, even Squibs will have a certain magical core in them just because of their Wizarding blood and heritage. It was by fault that we cannot perform the standard magic Wizards can. Now, you must have seen Argus Filch somewhere around the Hogwarts castle. He is also a Squib, as you may have known or found out by any chance. Have you ever wondered how he could clean the whole castle by himself?"

"Er...no...But we didn't really care about how he cleaned the Castle. We always assumed that he was just...I dunno...doing it the Muggle way," replied Harry, kicking himself for not realizing the near-impossible job of cleaning the whole of Hogwarts castle. It was a pretty large castle.

"We have certain magical ability limited to us, meaning we cannot use wands to perform spells. We must do magic indirectly. There is not much we can do. When the desire is high, we may be allowed to use our magical core. I have never used magic before. This spell is ancient and dangerous to a Squib. The need is urgent. If done incorrectly, death will be my fate. We will need two people for this spell," said Mrs. Figg, her right eye twitching now.

"Wait...If it's dangerous to a Squib, shouldn't I be the one to perform the spell?" asked Harry.

"You can do this spell. But it is also dangerous to youths, and the world can not stand to lose Harry Potter. You are the Boy-Who-Lived. You are too precious and valuable to die. You are our hope against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. You must not die. Now...I need an Anchor. The Anchor will make sure to keep me physically here and stable, you are some sort of base. The Anchor will provide me with the necessary magic that I need. By using the connection, I will be able to access your magic. You must hold on to a strand of my hair with your left hand, and your right hand must hold on to my right hand to keep me to this world. Once the spell is done, the hair may do several things. If it spirals around, that means I have reached Grimmauld Place mentally, spiritually, and safely. I cannot get there in physical form because I do not have the magic to do that. If the strand of hair turns blue after it has been spiraled, that means it is time to call me back. A strong jerk in the right hand will do. Do not let go of my right hand until I speak, or I will die. If the hair does not spiral, but grows longer, it means I have reached the wrong place, and you must pull me back within three seconds, or my soul will perish. If the hair has not done anything, then I am still here, the spell has not done anything. If the hair jiggles and turns black, I have died," Mrs. Figg quickly explained, to a wide-eyed Harry.

She went on. "The key to my safety is you Harry. You are the Anchor. You Anchor me to this world. You provide me with magic. If you ever let go of my right hand before I come back, I already told you what will happen. I will die. When the spell is done, I will stay as I am, sitting across from you. I will not move, and my eyes will be closed. I will be in a dream-like state."

"But, what if it doesn't work? I don't want you to die because I didn't do my job right!" protested Harry.

"Harry. I trust in you. I have watched over you, and I know who you are. I have been told of all the challenges you've ever gone up against. I cannot ask for a better Anchor than you," said Mrs. Figg. "Oh, and Dumbledore's Cover-Me charm will also wear off. He has put a Cover-Me charm on me so that no one recognizes me. I have lived in the Wizarding world as a Daily Prophecy reporter. I have been a spy for Dumbledore. Being a Squib doesn't mean anything Harry. It was after your parents' death that I was in danger. Dumbledore put the charm on me so that I would not be recognized. He also enchanted the Ministry files to say that there was an Arabella Figg living around here. And no, my name is not Arabella Figg. Don't be alarmed when the Charm is worn off," explained Mrs. Figg.

Harry breathed and tried to take all this in. They sat on her living room floor, faced to each other, legs crossed Indian style. Mrs. Figg took off a strand of her hair, and put it in Harry's left hand. Their right hands joined. Mrs. Figg uttered the possibly fatal words in a strange language that Harry could not hear. It seemed that Mrs. Figg was connecting Harry's magical power to her through their hands. As soon as she started the incantation, Harry felt power seeping out of him through his right hand, and he realized that Mrs. Figg was using Borrowed Magic from him. Mrs. Figg was surprised to feel the power of the magic. Without another thought, she finished the incantation. Harry never let go of her hand. As the magic flowed through Mrs. Figg, the Cover-Me charm was wearing off, and Harry saw a few wrinkles fading away.

He looked up in surprise as he saw a woman of about fifty years old in a trance. It was time to look at the strand of hair. He turned to his left, and watched as the strand of hair wiggled. Harry's heart stopped. He slowly started to breathe again as the hair arranged into a spiral. YES! It had worked! Now, all he had to do was wait for the hair to turn blue...

Seconds passed. And minutes passed. Harry never took his eyes off the strand of hair in his left hand. Harry was getting nervous. 'Why was she taking so long?' he thought. His thoughts were interrupted by the change of the hair strand, which turned a bright royal blue color. Harry immediately jerked his right hand.

Mrs. Figg opened her eyes, and said "Hello Harry. You may let go now."

Harry felt relieved. He let go of her hand, and gave her the strand of hair. She took it and threw it in the garbage can nearby.

"So...How did it go?" asked Harry eagerly.

"It went well. I had to search all around the place for members of the Order. I think I may have given your friend, Ronald Weasley quite a shock. To the people, I appeared like a glowing golden ghost. He was the first person I saw. I asked him where the members of the Order were, and without a word, he pointed to the floor beneath him. I took that as a meaning that they were downstairs. I zoomed through the floor, and saw Albus. I told him of everything you've told me, and I daresay, for a man as old as him, he took it quite well after getting the shock of seeing me. He started giving out orders all at once to the people who were there with him. They immediately started going over plans to get to Azkaban and messing up You-Know-Who's plans. As soon I was satisfied, I said the incantation again," said Mrs. Figg.

"Dumbledore was very pleased that we were alerted. And you should be coming back to your house. You don't want them catching you. Harry, I will not be here any longer. I have been called back to the Grimmauld Place first thing in the afternoon. They will send someone here to take me there. This school year, the old Muggle Studies teacher had retired, so I'm taking up the job. I'll see you at the Grimmauld Place once Dumbledore thinks it's been enough time for the blood protection to act indirectly. Quickly Harry. I know you're feeling miserable at the Dursleys, but trust me. You need the protection. Promise me whatever happens, you will stay inside the house Harry. Don't let those people get to you. I will inform Albus of your wand and Hedwig, and that you will not be able to communicate with us. Your Daily Prophet has been cancelled Harry, as you may have realized. I'm sure you'll understand everything when you arrive at the Grimmauld Place. Everything will be explained to you when you get there. You must go now. See you soon Harry."

"Okay. I promise. Bye then," said Harry, gloomily, opening the door, and walking out.

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

He quietly opened the door to the house, and met up with an extreme close up of Uncle Vernon's beet colored face. Harry braced himself.

"AND JUST WHAT WERE YOU DOING OUT THIS EARLY IN THE MORNING? YOU ARE NOT FREE TO DO WHATEVER YOU PLEASE!"