Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

RECAP OF CHAPTER ONE (Aunt Petunia's Secret): It's the summer after Harry's fifth year at Hogwarts. This chapter picks up where Ootp left off, and Harry is a very depressed teenager. After persuasion to leave his bedroom, Harry has a serious talk with Mrs. Figg. His birthday arrives, and he receives letters and presents from his friends. It is soon discovered that Dudley has a girlfriend, and she is coming over for dinner. Harry finds that she's quite nice, and gets a phone call from Ron during dinner. After dinner, Uncle Vernon and Dudley yell at Harry for this, which leads to a fist fight between Harry and his cousin. Then a glass shatters, and seconds later, Order members are in his kitchen, and an owl from the Ministry of Magic is delivered, accusing him of doing magic. The Order members demand to know why he did magic, but Harry denies it.

WHERE WE LEFT OFF:

All right. Enough small talk," said Moody. "Which one of you did this?" He pointed his wand at the pile of broken glass on the table.

There was silence.

Then Aunt Petunia let out a little squeak.

"I - I think it was me," she said, swallowing hard.

Chapter Two - Pursuit in Diagon Alley

Harry couldn't believe his ears. Was Aunt Petunia admitting that she had used magic? "What do you mean, you think it was you?" he demanded from his position on the floor.

"Petunia, what are you saying?" said Uncle Vernon, the vein in his neck throbbing so hard now it was almost painful to watch. Dudley was staring at his mother with his mouth hanging open stupidly.

Suddenly, there were multiple CRACKs and two wizards and a witch had arrived. Harry looked at them in bewilderment. "You, Harry Potter, have performed magic outside of school three times in front of Muggles. Hand over your wand, if you please," the witch said briskly.

"No," he said flatly, panic rising inside of him. His wand meant everything to him. There was no way he'd part with it without a fight.

"Fran!" broke in Tonks, giving the witch a sweet smile. "Is there really any need to do this? We were just discussing the possibility of Harry here not doing magic."

"Quiet," grunted one of the men to Tonks. He stepped forward. "Give me your wand, Mr. Potter."

The second man seized Harry around the arm - there was a sudden flash of light and he grew stiff and fell over. Spells were aimed at the two other Ministry of Magic employees and they too were Stunned. "Nice work, Kingsley," said Tonks approvingly.

Dudley let out a whimper. "You were saying?" Moody growled to Aunt Petunia, who resembled a deer caught in car headlights. Her eyes were wide and her bony face had taken on a pale color. "I - don't know...maybe I didn't - "

"But you think you did?" said Arthur Weasley soothingly.

Aunt Petunia reluctantly nodded. Harry couldn't believe his eyes. "You've been a witch all along and you've never told me?" he said angrily. "You had me believing that being magical was horrible when you're a wizard yourself?"

Aunt Petunia glared at him. "I am not a witch!" she said shrilly. "I don't want to be one and I never have been one! I - it's wrong! I didn't do it on purpose! I-I didn't do anything - "

"Except shatter a glass without touching it," Lupin said quietly. "Mrs. Dursley, have there been any other times when you've performed magic? Even accidentally?"

Harry's aunt looked at Lupin like he was a bug. She held her nose in the air and refused to answer him. Tonks raised her eyebrows. "Listen, Dursley, we can do this the hard way if you'd like. Moody, don't you carry around Veritaserum?" She turned to the older Auror nonchalantly.

"W-What's that?" asked Aunt Petunia.

Harry finally stood up and looked angrily into his aunt's eyes. "It's a truth serum. Wouldn't you rather just say whether you've done magic before than go through having a potion shoved down your throat?"

"Harry, that's enough," said Lupin. Harry faltered under his former professor's stare. "It's up to Mrs. Dursley to decide what she wants to do. Either way, we'll find out."

Uncle Vernon stood protectively in front of Aunt Petunia. "You won't touch my wife!"

"Mr. Dursley, we won't have to if she cooperates," said Mr. Weasley.

"She doesn't have to tell you anything!" Uncle Vernon roared.

Moody, apparently, had had enough. "Dursley, shut up and step aside, or I'll blast you across the room," he threatened. Tonks and Kingsley exchanged looks, grinning.

"I've only done it twice before!" said Aunt Petunia as though someone was disputing this fact.

"When?"

"The first time was when I found out Lily had gotten her letter to that stupid place...I was angry because our parents were so proud of her! I was the one who did well in primary school and they were never proud of me!" raged Aunt Petunia. "I accidentally broke her mirror. The second time was when..." She trailed off as though she didn't want to speak of it.

"Go on," said Tonks.

Harry had to lean forward to hear what Aunt Petunia said next. "The second time was when I found out that she...well, when she was murdered. I was...I was sad - yes, Vernon, I was sad." She challenged Uncle Vernon with her eyes. "Dudley was screaming for sweets...and I just couldn't help myself. The bowl of sweets shattered, and they all..." she sighed, "hit him in the forehead."

The corners of Lupin's mouth twitched, as though he was trying to fight back a smile at the image of sweets, Dudley's closest friends, smacking him in a rapid succession on the forehead. Dudley was gaping at his mother, clearly affronted by her words. No doubt, he had thought he was an angel when he was younger. "Thank you, Mrs. Dursley."

"Hang on," said Harry, thinking hard, "if you're magical, why didn't you get a Hogwarts letter like my mum?"

"Only the best are excepted to Hogwarts, Harry," said Lupin. He exchanged a look with Tonks, Moody, and Mr. Weasley. "But there may another reason as well..."

*    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    

After the members of the Order had finished talking, the Ministry of Magic employees were revived, Obliviated, and sent on their way with no recollection of an incident involving a suspected Harry Potter of doing magic. Mad-Eye Moody and Kingsley Shacklebolt helped to direct them back to the Ministry. Mr. Weasley told Harry he would see him soon, Tonks left to go home, but Lupin stayed.

"Harry, could I talk to you for a moment?" he said.

Harry nodded, words failing him. His aunt had magic inside her. It didn't matter to Harry whether it was a little or a whole bunch. She had magic inside her and that's all that mattered. He was so angry with her at the moment that he couldn't speak.

Lupin gripped his shoulder in a fatherly way and led him into the living room. Harry sat down on the sofa, mind racing with thoughts. "Harry," said Lupin, still standing, "your aunt is probably not a witch."

Harry's head snapped up. "What do you mean, she's probably not? She did magic, didn't she?"

Lupin stared at him solemnly. "Yes, but that could mean one of two things. The first is that she is something extremely rare. However, it's not likely."

"What?"

"Do you know what a Squib is, Harry?"

"Yes, it's the opposite of a Muggleborn."

"Exactly. Which is why it isn't very likely that Petunia is a Squib. Because, to our knowledge, your mother's family were all Muggle."

"Meaning?" Harry pressed.

"Meaning exactly what I just said. A Squib is the opposite of Muggleborn. Petunia Dursley is Muggleborn.

"So then she is a witch!"

"Harry, please," said Lupin, holding up a hand. "The second possibility is that your aunt is like your mother - she can do magic." Harry swore. "But," Lupin continued, turning a deaf ear to Harry's language, "unlike your mother, she isn't a full fledged witch. She's not powerful at all. Your aunt has less magic in her than a newborn infant born into a wizarding family does."

"That would explain why she didn't get a Hogwarts letter," mumbled Harry, rubbing his eyes.

"Or why she didn't show up on the Ministry of Magic's records of all born witches and wizards," said Lupin thoughtfully. "She doesn't have enough magic inside of her to be considered a witch."

Harry nodded in understanding, but he was still frustrated. He didn't care how much magic his aunt had inside her. The fact that she had any magic in her at all was what angered him. She hadn't ever told Harry that she was magical, and had even tried to stamp the magic out of him. It felt like a slap in the face.

Lupin's voice broke through his musings. "I suppose you want to know what's been going on in the wizarding world, then Harry?"

"I have a question, actually," said Harry. "About - about Sirius."

The color drained from Lupin's tired, once handsome face. This reaction made Harry feel guilty right away. It was he, Harry's, fault that Sirius Black was dead. Harry didn't even know how Lupin, Sirius' close friend, could even stand being in same room with him. "What about him, Harry?"

"Mrs. Figg," said Harry quietly, "she said that his body had been recovered. How is that possible? The veil...it - well, people aren't supposed to come back out of it, are they?" He found he didn't want to look at Lupin. There was a burning behind his eyelids he didn't want the older man to see.

"Generally, Harry, people aren't supposed to come out of it. Cornelius Fudge, however, wanted Sirius' body and his wand."

"Well, how did he do that? You can't just walk into that veil," reasoned Harry.

Lupin's eyes dropped to the floor. "Surely you've heard of the Summoning Charm?"

Harry knew this made sense. "But why does Fudge want Sirius' body anyway?"

"He wanted to clear Sirius' name properly." Lupin mumbled. His voice sounded incredibly dry.

Harry felt stupefied. "There's no point clearing his name, now that he's dead, is there?" he snapped.

Lupin looked at him sharply. "He would have wanted it," he said. Harry was ashamed of his words immediately. The look in Remus Lupin's eyes was one that Harry had never seen before. It was pure, unadulterated bitterness, and it made Harry squirm.

"Sorry," Harry muttered. "I didn't mean - "

"Is there anything else you want to know, Harry?" Lupin cut him off.

Harry had lots of questions still. How did one go about clearing someone's name "properly"? Was a service required? Why was the body needed to clear someone's name?

"No," said Harry. He didn't want to pressure Lupin into talking about something that was obviously a sore topic. But he did have another question. "Well, except...why did that letter come so quickly? Normally it takes awhile."

"The Order is watching you very closely, Harry. After Voldemort returned and what with all the trouble you've gotten yourself into, the Ministry is as well. They monitor everything inside this house, Harry, particularly whether magic is occuring."

"Because if magic is happening, most likely Voldemort has broken into Privet Drive?" said Harry. Lupin nodded in reply. "But Dumbledore said this house was protected by magic."

"Even magic can have it's faults, Harry."

There was a tense silence. Lupin cleared his throat and looked down at Harry awkwardly. "If that's all, I must be going. It's quite late, almost midnight. The Order will contact you in a few days."

"Professor Lupin?" Harry said quickly.

"Harry, there's no need to call me that. I am no longer your professor."

"I'm..." Harry tried to build up his courage. "I'm sorry about...Sirius."

Pain flashed across Lupin's face. Harry wished he hadn't brought his godfather up again. "I...it's not your fault, Harry," he said shakily.

Harry didn't feel convinced.

The former professor disappeared with a pop, leaving Harry feeling very depressed once more. His dreams that night were everything from pleasant.

*    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    

A few days came and went, but Harry still didn't hear anything from the Order. He knew, from what Lupin had told him, that he was still being guarded. He wouldn't have minded as much if one of his guards would actually talk to him. Harry hadn't found out nearly enough information about what was happening in the wizarding world from Lupin, which frustrated him to no end. His Daily Prophet subscription had run out, as he had no more money to pay for it.

The only halfway decent thing about still being at Privet Drive was that the were all uncharacteristically silent.

Dudley now went out of his way to avoid Harry. He had taken to leaving the house early in the morning and coming back late at night. Harry knew Dudley was off drinking, smoking, and beating up kids. That's what he had done all last summer.

The vein in Uncle Vernon's neck seemed to always throb, and he did nothing but glare at anything that moved. His glares were sent at Harry especially, as though the news of Aunt Petunia being magical had been his fault. Aunt Petunia, for her part, had taken on a very stiff stance, which gave off the aura of a challenge to anyone who dared say a word to her. She had also buried herself into the household chores, leaving Harry with nothing to do.

But they were all silent.

This was why Harry was so shocked to wake up one morning to the sound of screeching tires and a loud crash. Half asleep, he made his way to the window and looked out upon the driveway, where he saw that Dudley was behind the wheel of a brand new red car. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were on the sidewalk, clapping. "Well done son, but next time don't get the trash can!"

Harry rolled his eyes. Earlier this summer, Dudley had gone into a rage when he had found out he hadn't gotten a car for his sixteenth birthday, and apparently Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had given in. He moved away from the window, but the moment he did, he could hear the sound of the tires squealing again - Dudley had obviously slammed on the brakes.

Probably ran over a cat, the fat git, Harry thought to himself, sniggering. He pat Hedwig gently on the head, and she hooted appreciatively.

Harry had just walked downstairs when the front door blasted open. Dudley was backing into the house slowly, and Mrs. Figg was yelling shrilly at him, whacking him repeatedly with her purse.

"I am so tired of your antics, boy! You think you're so cool, smoking and drinking - and RUNNING OVER CATS! You cretin! You foul creation! What did Mr. Tibbles ever do to you, you fat lump? Perhaps instead of driving, you - WHACK - should - WHACK - start -WHACK - jogging!"

Dudley's mouth hung open. She rounded on Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, who had never seen this side of their neighbor before. "I just might file a lawsuit for this! Mr. Tibbles was on my property! Has your pathetic excuse for a son even been to driving school? Harry!" Mrs. Figg had spotted him on the staircase. "How can you restrain yourself from turning these people into toads? If I was a witch..."

"You - you - how do you know - Harry - you -y-you told her?" started Aunt Petunia in a small voice.

Harry ignored her. "Mrs. Figg, you could always have Dudley help you around your house. I reckon he's especially good at lifting things - heavyweight champion and all..." He resisted the urge to smirk at the look on Dudley's face at the idea of actually working.

Mrs. Figg panted, and lowered her purse. She raised a hand to her heaving chest. "You do have an idea there, Harry," she said. "Come now, Dudley, I have work for you to do in my garden. There are no objections?" She glared at Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, who shook their heads. A lawsuit was something that would make them look bad, and they didn't want that at all. Dudley gave them looks of betrayal, and followed the batty cat lover out the door.

*    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    

That afternoon, Dudley returned, worked to the bone. He was slumped over and breathing heavily. He smelled of sweat and Aunt Petunia screamed when it began to drip all over her clean floors. She demanded that Dudley strip where he stood to avoid the heinous crime.

Harry, deciding that Dudley stripping off his clothes was something he'd rather not see, made his way outside to fetch the post. Just as he was bending up to pick up the post, a loud pop warranted his attention.

"Hello, Dung," said Harry knowingly, as he flipped through the post. "Fancy seeing you here. Aren't you supposed to be...er...hiding in bushes or something?"

"Ha ha ha, you're funny," said Dung, making his way up the garden path.

"Wait, don't come any closer!" said Harry suddenly. "What's my Patronus?"

"A stag, of course," said Dung. "Harry, you know I'm not in Polyjuice."

"You can never be too sure," Harry defended himself. "So, why are you here?"

Mundungus scratched his ear absently. "I'm to take you...well, you know where. But first, I have to stop somewhere." He patted his moleskin overcoat, which was oddly lumpy and jangled. Dung was still a crook, even if he did work for Dumbledore.

"I have to pack. You can come in if you'd like." Harry walked back inside, Dung trailing behind. "Post is here!" Harry said loudly, throwing it down on the table. He dashed as quickly as he could up the stairs. The sooner he was away from Privet Drive, the better. He made his way around his bedroom, jamming things haphazardly into his trunk. He picked up Hedwig's cage in one hand and dragged the trunk down the stairs with the other.

"What is all that ruddy noise?" he heard Uncle Vernon yell.

Harry handed Hedwig over to Dung, who stupidly put his fingers into her cage. She nipped at them and he yelped in pain. "She doesn't like strangers," explained Harry, bringing his trunk upright.

Uncle Vernon walked in. "Who the ruddy hell are you?"

"Dung Fletcher," said Mundungus. "I'm Harry's guard."

"Guard? Why do you need a guard, boy?" demanded Uncle Vernon.

Harry didn't respond. He hadn't told anyone about the prophecy that he had heard in Dumbledore's office at the end of term. He hadn't told anyone that he was destined to either kill or be killed by Voldemort, the most evil wizard of all time. Harry didn't feel the need to share this information with anyone, least of all Uncle Vernon, who would probably rejoice if he was murdered.

"Let's go, Dung," said Harry, ignoring his uncle's angry purple looks.

Aunt Petunia, and a half-naked Dudley appeared into the room as well. "Go where?" demanded Aunt Petunia.

"You sick or something?" said Dung consolingly to Dudley, whose fat was hanging from his body like jelly. Dudley clenched his fists. Harry didn't bother to hide his laughter.

"I'm spending the summer with the Weasleys," said Harry, which was half true.

"Oh...well, then leave all ready!" said Aunt Petunia, waving him off as though he was a fly.

"I am," said Harry coldly, glaring at her. He kicked the front door open and waited for Dung to follow. Dung continued to stare at the Dursleys in confusion. "Dung, come on." The stout man followed, jingling and jangling, the Dursleys giving him disgusted looks. Aunt Petunia slammed the door behind them.

Harry had stormed angrily halfway down the street before he realized he had no idea where he was headed. He paused, waiting for Dung to catch up. "Where are we going?" he asked.

"We're stopping at the Leaky Cauldron to drop off your stuff. Then, to Diagon Alley, where you can buy your schoolbooks..."

"I haven't got my booklist," said Harry.

"Don't you normally get your letters by now?"

"Yes, it must be late this year," Harry said quietly, as the two of them continued to walk. Harry didn't want to think about why the Hogwarts letters were being mailed late.

"...and then we'll be heading to you know where." Harry nodded, as if he had been paying attention to every word.

"Dung, what's been happening lately in the wizarding world? Have there been any attacks or anything? Are the Death Eaters still in Azkaban?"

Dung gave Harry a serious look. "You'll find that out when we reach Headquarters, I reckon," he said.

Harry fought down a wave of frustration. He had been in the dark for this long, and no one was going to tell him anything. It was last year all over again. Why did everyone refuse to see that Harry needed to know everything that had been going on? He was the bloody one who was going to kill Voldemort! Yet, he was still being treated like a little innocent child.

He was sick of it. During the train ride to London, Harry didn't speak a word to Dung. He was too furious. Whenever the Muggles looked strangely at them for lugging around a large trunk and an owl, Harry would glare so hard at them, they'd quiver in their seats.

When they arrived at The Leaky Cauldron, Harry was still fuming. He practically shoved Hedwig into Tom the innkeeper's hands, and she gave him a very haughty look. Harry glared at Dung. "Why are we here? I told you that I didn't have my booklist."

"You're not the only one who has stuff to do. But my business requires me to go in that direction." Dung grinned, and pointed down the alley, where a large rusty sign that read Knockturn Alley hung.

Harry rolled his eyes. "So, what am I supposed to do? Just sit here and wait?"

Dung nodded. Harry made a very Hermione-like tutting noise and sat down on the cobblestone pavement in front of The Leaky Cauldron. Dung waved good-bye to him and disappeared into the crowds.

Harry became bored rather quickly. He didn't care what Dung was doing, but he knew it was doing something illegal. Dung was supposed to be taking him to Grimmauld Place, where he might finally receive the answers to his bloody questions! What was taking that old nut so long anyway?

Harry watched the crowds carefully, trying to spot Dung among the brightly colored cloaks. He was nowhere to be seen. Harry's irritation seemed to rise, as the chatter and high pitched laughter of the wizards and witches reached his ears. Really, what did they have to be happy about?

Voldemort was back. Hadn't the Ministry alerted the people? It was just one more question that Harry needed to be answered. Where was Dung?

"Harry? Harry, is that you?"

Harry turned his head slightly to the left, to see his fellow Gryffindor Parvati Patil round the corner. "Hello," he grumbled, lifting a hand to acknowledge her.

She smiled. "Why are you sitting on the sidewalk? Are you waiting for someone?"

"Actually, I am," he said, looking around impatiently for Dung.

"We're here to go to Madam Malkin's for our robes." She pointed to Padma Patil, her twin sister, who was standing a couple feet away, looking bored.

Harry gave up looking for Dung, and stood up. Perhaps he could get some information about what had been happening in the wizarding world from Parvati. He wondered how he could change the conversation topic from robes to Voldemort without scaring her off. "Robes? Don't you have some of those?"

Parvati rolled her eyes playfully. "I have to get some every year. You aren't the only one who grows quickly."

Indeed, Parvati had gotten a bit taller, but she had always been tall. Harry could remember a time when she had actually been taller than him. In fact, Parvati had matured quite well, he noticed. Her dark hair cascaded in waves around her neck, glittering in the sun. "Well...er, I suppose you're right," he said, a bit embarrassed.

"Besides," she said, jerking him away from his thoughts, "there was an ad in Witch Weekly about a sale..."

"Do you read the Daily Prophet?" asked Harry.

If Parvati had noticed the abrupt change of subject, she didn't show it. "Yes, but I haven't lately. My family was on holiday and father didn't want any newspapers around. I have no idea what's been happening lately."

Harry couldn't keep the disappointment out of his voice. "Oh."

"Parvati, are you coming? I've just spotted Terry! Come on!" Padma called.

Parvati sighed. "Bloody Terry Boot. She fancies him," she explained to Harry. He nodded as though he did want to hear this information. "It was nice seeing you. Bye, Harry." Harry waved slightly, and as the Patil twins left, he stopped dead in his tracks.

A rat had just crawled out of The Leaky Cauldron.

Before Harry could think, he had started chasing the rat. Adrenaline was pumping furiously through his veins as he ran through the crowds, pushing people out of his way. The rat sped up. Harry continued to run, sweat licking the back of his neck. "Move out of the way!" he shouted to a group of giggling teenage witches.

"Watch where you're going!" yelled many people as he dashed past them.

As Harry continued to run after the rat, he realized vaguely that his surroundings had grown steadily darker. Instead of running past brightly colored shops with displays of broomsticks, quills, and cauldrons in the windows, he was running past skinny black shops covered in dust and grime.

The rat ducked underneath a doorway of one of the shops. Harry opened the shop door without much thought, his mind only on capturing this damn rat. The rat darted underneath a shelf full of Dark Arts objects. Instinctively, Harry threw himself down on his stomach and reached under the shelf. A loud crash signaled that some of the items had fallen. He winced at the sound of shattering glass and coughed as the dust tickled his nostrils, still feeling his way around for the rat.

Harry closed his fingers around the rat's neck, satisfaction surging through him. As he emerged from underneath the shelf, he looked closely at the rat. His suspicions were confirmed. The rat was missing a toe.

He could hear voices growing louder, and Wormtail began squirming in his hand. Harry tightened his grip on the rat and looked about for an escape route. There was no time to put back the fallen items, and clearly he had followed Wormtail into a Dark Arts shop. Swearing, he got to his feet, his eyes lingering on a dust covered window partially hidden by a thick bookshelf.

Harry, as the voices grew closer, dashed to the window and desperately tried to open it. It was stuck and footsteps were now becoming clearer and clearer. With an enraged yelp, Harry punched the window with all his might. It swung open with a very loud creak, and some of the glass broke.

"...intruders...in there...I hear them!"

Harry tried to pull himself upwards so he could crawl out of the window, but he couldn't. In a slight panic, he looked around for somewhere else to hide. Next moment, he had opened the doors of a small black cabinet and climbed inside, shutting the doors. He found an unfamiliar form of de ja vu settling over him, realizing with horror that he had all ready been in this shop before, in the summer before his second year at Hogwarts.

"I could have sworn that I heard - who has done this?" Harry heard the oily voice of Mr. Borgin cry, as he noticed the broken items on the floor.

Harry kept his grip firm on Wormtail as Mr. Borgin began to whine piteously.

"Borgin," came a snooty, feminine voice, "what are you doing? I have other places to be today..."

"Sorry, Mrs. Malfoy," said Borgin in a clipped voice. "There has been an intruder in my shop."

"What?" Mrs. Malfoy said sharply, and Harry could practically see her eyes narrow. "How did they escape?"

"Through that window, the bastards," said Mr. Borgin. "Don't you see it hanging open? Oh, oh, they broke my Hand of Glory..."

"Such a pity," said Narcissa in such a voice that Harry knew she did not think it was, in fact, a pity that Mr. Borgin had lost a precious article of the Dark Arts.

"What do you care, Mrs. Malfoy, your husband has all ready purchased two from my shop! And they are so rare..." Mr. Borgin sniffed loudly.

"Mr. Borgin," said Mrs. Malfoy in a dignified voice, "are we going to continue our business dealings or aren't we?"

There was a long silence and Harry heard Mr. Borgin stand up from the floor. "Yes, very well, Mrs. Malfoy," he said.

Harry waited until he heard their footsteps disappear to climb out of the cabinet. He heaved himself up to the window one-handed, thanks to Wormtail struggling in his other hand. This was quite hard to do, and when he had succeeded, he allowed himself to fall out of the window. He grunted as he landed on something - or somethings as there seemed to be more than one of them - poked into his back. He turned over to avoid the pain and fell, landing hard on his side onto the pavement.

"Dearie, are you quite all right?" came a high pitched voice in his ear as he stood up. The woman was dressed all in black, and had warts all over her face.

"Just fine, thank you," Harry muttered as she walked away. He looked up, dusting himself off. He felt his stomach grow queasy as he saw that seconds before he had been lying in a cart of human bones. Harry couldn't fathom why human bones were lying around, and on second thought, didn't really want to know.

Harry quickly made his way through Knockturn Alley, anger seething through his veins. He squeezed Wormtail harder, so hard he was afraid he would kill him. What a shame, he thought, if I was to kill him right now. I'll be a murderer eventually, might as well get in some practice time. Of course, Harry knew that he'd never kill Wormtail, also known as Peter Pettigrew. He'd hand him over to the Dementors of Azkaban. Then he'd wish he were dead. Harry would make him wish he hadn't ever been born.

Wormtail, the slimy little rat, was the reason his parents were dead. He had betrayed them to Voldemort. And now, he had put Harry himself in jeopardy by making him run into Borgin and Burkes, probably one of the most Dark shops in Knockturn Alley. Harry had let Wormtail escape his wrath once before, and he wouldn't let that happen again. "Being an Animagus won't help you now, Wormtail," he muttered coldly to the rat in his hand. "I've got you, once and for all."

Harry arrived back at the front of The Leaky Cauldron fifteen minutes later, after trying to stay hidden from the people who were undoubtedly dodgy and would probably hand him over to Voldemort the moment they found out who he was...

As he stood in front of The Leaky Cauldron, panic rose inside of him. Where the hell was Dung? They had to get Pettigrew to the authorities straightaway. He was about to tell Tom the innkeeper to owl Dumbledore when - "OW!"

The stupid rat had sunk its teeth into Harry's finger. Harry dropped him. "No!" he yelled frantically as Wormtail began to scamper away, prepared to chase after him again. "Come back here, you dirty, rotten, son of a b - " Harry was just about to sprint towards the rat when -

"Potter, what the ruddy hell are you doing here all alone?" came a low growl.

Harry whirled around. Two eyes, one normal and on magical glared into his own. Harry knew who it was at once. "Moody! He's here! Peter Pettigrew is here, in Animagus form! We've got to get him!" Harry started forward again, but Moody grabbed him by the shirt collar and pulled him back.

"Potter, calm down. We're not chasing after him."

"How can you say that?" Harry roared. "You're the one always going, 'Constant Viligance!' He's here! Why let him escape?"

"Pettigrew's long gone by now, lad! And you're going to Headquarters where you're supposed to be! Who was your guard?"

Harry panted, not answering the Auror. Peter had slipped through his fingers once again. "He betrayed my parents!" Harry yelled at Moody, who still had a tight grip on his collar. "Do you understand that? If you hadn't held me back, I would've got him!" Moody gave Harry a fierce glare. It intimidated Harry quite a bit, but he didn't want to back down. "After all I just went through in Knockturn Alley, you're going to do nothing?"

"Knockturn Alley...why were you there?"

"To get Pettigrew!" Harry said loudly. "Dung just left me here and I saw Pettigrew..."

"Dung?" said Moody angrily. "Dung was your guard!"

"Yes, Dung," said Harry testily.

"Dung," Moody repeated, seething. "This is the last straw. He's going to have to go. I'm not having this!"

"Could you please let me go?" Harry asked, feeling his head pound. He had gone through all of that for nothing. Dejectedly, he bowed his head.

Moody's eye was still on him, and Harry didn't like it. He seemed to be delving into his emotions, and reading his face and actions like an open book. "That depends on you, son. Will you promise not to run off?"

Harry nodded weakly, feeling drained. "Yes."

Moody's let go of Harry's collar just as Mundungus Fletcher came into view. "Fletcher!" yelled Moody, his eyes glowing with rage. "You and I need to have a talk when we get back to Headquarters."

Dung's face twitched. "All right, there, Alastor?"

"Don't - talk," Moody said through gritted teeth. "I'll deal with you at Headquarters."

Harry watched the scene with interest. Mad-Eye Moody was the angriest Harry had ever seen him. His rage was boiling, but Harry had the feeling he'd truly blow up at Dung when they reached Grimmauld Place. He watched as Moody stiffly entered the Leaky Cauldron and reappeared with Harry's belongings. He shoved Hedwig's cage unceremoniously into Dung's hands. "That I'm sure you could keep track of," he growled condescendingly. "Let's go."

The three of them took the train to the development of houses that hid 12 Grimmauld Place. Moody stopped walking when they reached the circle of houses branded with the numbers ten, eleven, thirteen, and fourteen and looked at Harry and Dung significantly.

Harry thought hard about 12 Grimmauld Place. And then it appeared. A sinking feeling erupted in the pit of Harry's stomach. This was Sirius' old house. He didn't want to be here anymore. Too many painful memories were coming back, racing through his head like photographs he had once taken. Sirius handing him a two-way mirror, Sirius coming to one of his Quidditch games in Animagus form, Sirius singing "Rest Ye Merry Hippogriffs" at the top of his lungs...

Harry blinked his eyes rapidly to stop the burning, and looked at Grimmauld Place again. It was grimy and old and ancient, just as it had been last year. Harry wondered why it was that a house could stay exactly the same, but everything else in the world could change.

Moody was now withdrawing his wand from his pocket with old, gnarled fingers. He tapped the door once, and Harry heard the familiar loud clicks and clatter of a chain. The door squeaked open slowly.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" said Moody, poking Harry in the back.

Harry gave him an irate look (he didn't much like being poked in the back). Taking a deep breath, he stepped closer to the door. He could hear the unmistakable sound of people - people he knew and loved - laughing and talking. The knot in his stomach tightened.

Taking another deep breath, he stepped over the threshold of the house he hated, yet hated, so much.