Rating:: PG
House:: Schnoogle
Characters:: Draco Malfoy Harry Potter Hermione Granger Ron Weasley Sirius Black
Genres:: General Action
Era:: Multiple Eras
Spoilers:: Philosopher's Stone Chamber of Secrets Prizoner of Azkaban Goblet of Fire
Stats:: Published: 12/12/2002

Updated: 12/28/2002

Words: 87,376

Chapters: 20

Hits: 40,339

Harry Potter and the Heir of Gryffindor

venus

Story Summary:: Things aren't exactly as they seem during Harry's 5th year at Hogwarts. Aside from there being romance in the air, discoveries are made, secrets are revealed and Harry embarks on an adventure that he will never forget.

Chapter 02

Chapter Summary:: Things aren’t exactly as they seem during Harry’s 5th year at Hogwarts. Aside from there being romance in the air, discoveries are made, secrets are revealed and Harry embarks on an adventure that he will never forget.

Posted:: 12/16/2002

Hits:: 2,333

Chapter Two: The New Neighbors

Privet Drive was awakening to yet another quiet day beneath another dull gray sky, and for the first time in what felt like years, Harry slept right through it. It was only when he felt the floor boards quake from the Dursleys marching up and down the staircase that he was torn away from the wonderful, relaxing sleep. He stretched happily, and as he walked past his mirror was surprised to discover a grin upon his face. The grin faltered somewhat as he took in how his pajamas hung high above the ground and his shirt looked as though it had been shrunk in the wash, but he shook his head, knowing there was nothing he could do about it, and the grin returned.

After he was dressed he came downstairs to find that breakfast had already been eaten and cleared away, and Aunt Petunia was eyeing him coldly. She could sense that Harry was in a good mood that morning, and the fact that he was smiling seemed to make her all the more determined to put a stop to it.

"Well, well. Sleeping Beauty's decided to grace us with his presence. Just in time to wash the car, right Vernon?"

Harry heard a delighted grunt from the living room. His stomach was getting restless and he reached for a banana in a hanging basket, to which Aunt Petunia immediately objected.

"I'm baking banana bread today, don't even think about it."

She was trying to pick a fight, most obviously, and he wasn't about to give her the pleasure of taking her up on it. Without saying another word, Harry turned and headed in the direction of the shed for some cleaning supplies. Aunt Petunia could bully him all she wanted, all he had to do was remind himself that within the week, she'd be gone.

Outside, he rinsed the Dursleys' car off with the garden hose and began soaping it up, when he heard a voice from behind.

"Hello? You're Harry, are you?"

Harry whipped around and found Mr. Banbury standing ten feet from him, dressed in his policeman outfit, obviously getting ready to ride to work. He wasn't as young as the Dursleys had made him out to be, although there was definitely youthful vigor and spark in his deep brown eyes. His immediate reaction was what a kind face he had-- the sort that Harry would perhaps have liked to get to know better. Too bad, though, because Harry could only imagine the terrible things Uncle Vernon had said about him to Mr. Banbury.

He lowered his eyes somewhat and answered timidly, "Yes, sir."

To Harry's surprise, Mr. Banbury let out a smile. "I was beginning to think that Mr. Dursley had made you up! Like to keep to yourself?"

Harry shrugged and looked back down to the ground. He was beginning to get a bit nervous-- if Uncle Vernon saw him talking with their neighbor, who knows what he'd do to him. Best just keep washing the car, Harry.

"Are you and Dudley the same age?"

"Yes, sir."

"That's good, then-- nice to have someone your own age around. Poor Sophie, that's our girl, she only has herself and her cat Marwick."

Harry wasn't sure what Mr. Banbury wanted and raised his eyes to look at him, questioningly.

Mr. Banbury cleared his throat. "Yes, well, I must be off. But it was nice to meet you, Harry. We'll be seeing you tonight, of course."

"Sorry? Tonight?"

Mr. Banbury seemed surprised. "Yes, tonight! We've invited your family over to have a meal with us!"

"Oh," Harry sighed. "Them. Well, I'm sure that I'm not supposed to come--"

"Nonsense! Of course you are! Imelda, that's my wife, would be most offended if you didn't come!"

Harry didn't know what to say in reply! He wasn't used to Muggles talking to him as though he didn't carry the Plague-- it was quite a strange feeling. He merely nodded in reply. That seemed to satisfy Mr. Banbury who hopped into his car and sped away.

Needless to say, the Dursleys said nothing to him for the rest of the day about having dinner with the Banbury's. Harry decided that perhaps, just to be on the safe side, he'd put on his nicest set of clothes (the ones that didn't make him look like a complete clown) and even sat down in front of the mirror to attempt to tidy up his hair. Besides his startling green eyes, his second most striking feature was his great mop of black hair: it was unruly, never obeyed his brush, but as of late had grown into thick black locks that Harry could almost look upon without complete distaste. He'd wished so often that he could look, well, normal. It was really all Harry had ever wanted-- to be normal. But aside from his intense green eyes that he was keenly aware were quite distracting, his round glasses and stubbornly unruly hair, there was also a curious lightning-shaped scar on his forehead. It was a scar that, to his dismay, labeled him as a celebrity and would forever cement the fact that he, Harry Potter, was by no means normal at all.

He usually tried his best to keep it covered beneath his hair, and he did so now before heading downstairs.

The Dursleys were already at the door, Aunt Petunia holding a custard of some kind, Dudley dressed in his very finest-- Harry could even smell a whiff of cologne. Uncle Vernon pulled up his nose the minute he saw Harry reach the creaky bottom step.

"Come to see us off, have you?"

"No, Mr. Banbury mentioned that he wanted me to--"

Aunt Petunia laughed a high, skin-crawling giggle. "You think you're having dinner with us? With the Banburys? Mr. Banbury is a very important man and we won't have him and his family exposed to people like you. Since you're so excited to have the house to yourself, you can start practicing now-- tonight. You're staying right here."

They turned, Dudley sent a glaring look of satisfaction at his cousin and the door slammed behind him. Harry stood in the quiet of the hallway, actually disappointed that he couldn't accompany the Dursleys. Mr. Banbury had smiled at him. He'd tried to speak to him! And Harry had appreciated it and wanted to see him again. He'd turned and began to make his way slowly back up the stairs when the front door suddenly burst open again. Dudley stood in the doorway, his face red with anger.

"Come on, then."

"Huh?"

Dudley could hardly speak, he was so angry. "You 'eard, come on. Hurry up, they'll be starting dinner soon."

Harry said nothing, but followed his cousin across the lawn and into number 3 Privet Drive. Sinful aromas met him, a gust of lovely, warm air, and to his surprise Mrs. Banbury extending her hand to him.

"Ah, here he is! I'm Imelda Banbury, and you are?"

She was a pretty woman in her mid thirties, dressed in a bright lavender sun dress with matching shoes and matching pin in her short chestnut brown hair. Her almond brown eyes sparkled just as her husband's did and she shook his hand heartily.

"Harry," he answered quietly.

"It's a pleasure, Harry. So you didn't want to come for dinner, eh? Well, you can go right back after you've finished eating, if you like. No sense in holding you here if you're not enjoying yourself! But come, let me-- oh there she is, Sophie! Sophie, this is Harry-- Dudley's cousin."

Harry knew why Dudley had been so intrigued with the Banburys' arrival. Sophie was absolutely lovely, a perfect blend of her mother's physical beauty and her father's magnetic charm. In her arms was her black and white cat and she was grinning which made her deep-set brown eyes twinkle and a small dimple appear on her left cheek. She innocently pulled a stray strand of her long, thick brown hair back into place and carefully extended her hand so as not to disturb her cat.

"I'm Sophie."

Harry was sure that his mouth wasn't the only one that had fallen-- Dudley was standing directly next to him.

"I'm Harry," he said calmly. He tried to think of something to say -- preferable something witty-- but nothing would come.

"Do you go to Smeltings with Dudley, then?"

Harry shook his head.

"Then that means I'll be at your school! I'm going to Stonewall High as well. Glad that I'll actually know someone. It's really hard when--"

"Harry doesn't go to Stonewall," Dudley piped up quite gleefully, cutting her off.

She raised her brow. "Oh?"

Dudley was positively gloating, and Harry knew what was coming . . .

"Oh, no. They don't let his sort at Stonewall. He goes to St. Brutus's."

Sophie stared at Harry in disbelief. Subconsciously, she took a step back. "S-St. Brutus's?"

Really, it would have been much better if he'd just told her the truth: better for her to know that he was really a wizard instead of thinking that he was a serial killer in the making.

"W-well, er, that's quite . . . interesting, Harry. I bet it's very nice there . . ." she attempted a feeble laugh. "Worlds better than Stonewall, I'd wager."

Her cat jumped out of her arms at that moment and approached Harry's feet, sniffing his shoes and then rubbing up against them, wrapping his tail about his ankle.

"Wow! He likes you, doesn't he! Marwick doesn't like anyone, except for--"

"Children? You're letting the dinner get cold! Come and sit!" Mrs. Banbury had appeared right behind them and beckoned them to follow.

They walked through the living room which was clean, every bit as orderly as Aunt Petunia's with lots of flowers and rugs and frames, and into their kitchen where a delectable feast was laid out and waiting for them.

"It looks gorgeous," said Petunia. "How can you do it all what with working and whatnot?" Petunia was obviously fishing for information.

"Oh no," said Imelda as she sat down, "I don't work. I'm more of a housewife, really."

"Oh really? Well, that makes two of us then!" Petunia laughed her fake laugh and Harry cringed as he always did when he heard it.

Wait a minute-- a housewife? Harry remembered back to the other day when he'd specifically heard her tell her husband that the move had been due to her job. But he didn't have time to dwell on it, because he was in the process of being nudged out of a seat by Dudley.

Dudley made sure he sat next to Sophie, and Harry ended up sitting at the far end of the table much to the happiness of the Dursleys. Uncle Vernon was going on to Mr. Banbury about something to do with law enforcement and out of control teenagers, Mrs. Banbury was listening most intently as Petunia went into detail about the recipe for her 'signature dessert' Pavlova, and Sophie was looking at Dudley, nodding in agreement as he dramatically re-counted an incident Harry had never heard of before which involved Dudley single-handedly breaking up a fight that nearly ended with Smelting's star football player in a body cast-- he promised he'd show her the certificate of merit he'd been awarded in recognition of his heroism.

"That was very brave of you, Dudley."

"Yes," he said gravely, "well, that's just my way, Sophie. Doing unto others as I would have them do unto me."

Harry choked on his glass of lemonade, trying hard not to fall into stitches of laughter. He'd choked so badly, that he'd unwittingly knocked over his cup and the lemonade poured onto the tablecloth. Dudley looked up and glared at him, as did the rest of the Dursley's.

Mrs. Banbury was at once at his side, bending over to sop up the liquid.

Harry was more than embarrassed. "Oh, I-- I'm so sorry. . ."

"Nonsense," she said airily as she pressed the washcloth against the wet fabric. "It's just. . ." her voice trailed as she turned her eyes back on Harry's face. Her breezy, carefree countenance flickered -- ever so quickly -- to one of complete shock. She cleared her throat and tried to smile again, but Harry was aware of a change in even her voice. "It's. . . er, j-just one of those things."

Harry was at once put on guard by this odd change in her behavior, and what's more. . . Harry could have sworn that her eyes had lingered on his scar. She reached for the pitcher of lemonade, poured him another glass and then went back to her seat. She was decidedly quieter now, concentrating more on her food than anything else as Petunia rambled on.

Uncle Vernon was still hounding Mr. Banbury about his serious concerns with law enforcement.

"Well did you know what I read in the paper the other day? Remember that silly character who went on that rampage last month, robbing all those Woolworths stores? He was a ruddy teenager too and I can't believe, just can't ruddy believe, that the police can't track this kid down! He's going to strike again, you mark my words!"

"Yes Vernon, I'll be the first to admit that Scotland Yard isn't at all proud of that. But we're a bit preoccupied at the moment, especially with the reappearance of Sirius Black. Now that's a criminal we've not seen the like of before. We've justnever come across a criminal before who is so. . . brilliant, really."

The mention of Sirius Black's name sent a chill through the Dursley's. Uncle Vernon tried his best not to appear as shaken as he truly was.

"Y-yes, B-Black. . . y-yes, well, we all know he's bad news," Harry was staring at his Uncle, wanting to strangle him for saying something so malicious. Vernon knew he was walking on thin ice because he quickly changed the subject. "But what I'm worried about are these bloody teenagers these days! When I was in school, if you put a toe out of line, they'd whack you! Make you cry like a baby, they would! But not these days, no, it's all about feelings these days. We don't want to hurt anyone's feelings. What this generation needs is a good whacking, eh Roger?"

Uncle Vernon was laughing and Roger was nodding, though he didn't answer yes or no to the question.

And that's when he felt it again! He looked up in time to see Mrs. Banbury's eyes most definitely on him, but she looked quickly away upon seeing him notice it. She played with her food a little longer and then pushed her plate away, looking up and making a point of fixing her gaze directly into Harry's eyes.

"So, Harry. How are you enjoying school?"

The Dursleys went deathly quiet. His Aunt and Uncle were shooting daggers at him with their menacing stares, warning him to watch his mouth. Harry gulped and made a point of not looking at Sophie whom he knew was probably terrified by him.

"Oh, it's all right."

"Do you know, I actually have seen that place before. When I was young I had the most unfortunate experience of having to step inside."

"Oh my dear, Imelda! You poor thing!" Mrs. Dursley was cooing.

"Well, it was a long story. But I was just wondering, Harry. . ." she took a breath, "is Mr. Filch still keen on those horrific punishments?"

Harry's fork dropped. What had she just said? Mr. Filch? Had she meant the Mr. Filch, Hogwarts' ground keeper? No, impossible. St. Brutus's must have had a Mr. Filch as well.

"And that cat of his! That Mrs. Norris-- she's not still alive, is she?"

The Dursley's were staring at him, awaiting his answer. Only problem was that Harry was paralyzed. This is no coincidence! She knows about Hogwarts! His pulse was racing as he kept her gaze. . . a glimmer shining in her eyes, her mouth twisted in a strange smile.

He took a shaky breath and answered, ". . . yes . . ."

Mrs. Banbury's face was writhing with excitement. And then in the very next moment, she'd changed the subject and her and Aunt Petunia were back to discussing recipes, leaving Harry absolutely stunned.

He didn't touch the rest of his dinner. When Petunia offered to clear away the dishes, Mrs. Banbury opposed fervently.

"No, Harry will help, won't you Harry?"

He could see Dudley smiling out of his peripheral vision, but didn't care. He stood up shakily, picked up his dishes, and then went about collecting the rest, trying to keep his hands still. He followed Mrs. Banbury into the kitchen and, as he expected, she quickly closed the door behind them.

Her smile was about ready to fly right off her face. "I can't believe it. . . I never thought that . . ."

"How did you know?" Harry blurted, "How did you know about Mr. Filch and Mrs. Norris?"

She stood, admiring him for a moment before answering. "Can you keep a secret?"

If only she knew. He nodded.

She beamed, turned towards the sink where they'd set the dishes and to Harry's surprise, extracted a thin dark mahogany wand from underneath her belt. She pointed it at the sink and whispered "Lavare Totalius!"

The dishes were at once sparkling and shining like new and Harry's mouth fell open. He stared at her in disbelief.

"You're a witch!" he whispered

"And you're Harry Potter! Oh, I just can't believe that I'm finally meeting you."

"But-how? I thought you were a muggle-"

"Yes, I am quite good at it, aren't I! It's one thing I'm a bit proud of, actually. That's one of the main reasons I think the Ministry placed me in Special Investigations, since I'm so good at blending in."

"You work for the Ministry of Magic? Well then you must know Arthur Weasley!"

"Oh Heavens, yes. I've known Arthur for years. Good man, Arthur."

"His son Ron is my best friend!"

"Really? Well, how nice! I'll tell him that you said hello when I see him tomorrow."

"But- how - "

"Well, I feel it best to just tell people that I'm a housewife. That way they don't wonder when they don't see me leave the house since I Apparate every morning."

"And . . . Mr. Banbury. . . is he. . ."

"My stars, no! He's a muggle if there ever was one! Works for the police department. And before you ask, no, Sophie isn't a witch either. Strange thing, really. We thought for certain she would be- what with my family being an all-wizarding family-and I did so want her to go to Hogwarts. She really did as well. It was a tremendous blow to her when she never received her letter. She's a bit sour about having to go to a regular school the rest of her life, to be honest. But Roger and I are both very supportive of her."

Harry was delighted! His new neighbor, a witch! Not just any old witch, but one who worked for the Ministry of Magic and knew the Weasleys!

At that moment Aunt Petunia stuck her head in the kitchen, flashing a smile that Harry knew was merely show. "Need any help in here?"

Imelda winked at Harry and then turned around to face Petunia. "Not at all, we've finished as you can see-"

"That certainly was fast," said Petunia, eyeing Harry.

"Well, Harry here is an expert dish-washer. I suppose they certainly do train them well at St. Brutus's."

Petunia nodded uncertainly and then turned and left.

"Mrs. Banbury, I think I should warn you now, it's best the Dursleys know nothing about your being . . . about who you are. They're being kind to you now because they think that you're a respectable, normal family. But they hate everything to do with our world, believe me, and if they ever knew--"

"I have no intention of them knowing. I've worked in Special Investigations for eighteen years-I know a wizard hater when I see one. And I daresay calling the Dursleys wizard-haters would be an understatement, right?"

The two of them laughed. Harry wished he could have spent the rest of the night talking to her, but instead he followed her back out into the living room, where Sophie sat looking bored out of her mind as Dudley rambled on and on about himself, and Roger sat trying to appear intrigued as Mr. and Mrs Dursley rambled on and on about themselves.

The company filtered out finally, after several announcements by Roger of just how late it was getting, and several more comments of 'Too bad I have to be up early in the morning . . .' Harry said goodbye to the Banburys and Imelda went so far as to quickly brush her fingers through his hair, catching a glimpse of his scar one more time. He followed the Dursleys back into number 4, not really noticing any of them at all. He was certain that his Aunt and Uncle were scolding him for something he'd done or said (the words 'useless, klutzy git' stuck out) but he paid it no mind and began his ascent upstairs in a daze.

"So you fancied Sophie, eh Harry?" Dudley taunted after him as they walked down the hall, bringing him out of his trance. "I saw the way you were looking at her. Forget it! She's mine, you hear me?"

Harry rolled her eyes-Sophie was actually the furthest thing from his mind at the moment. "Yours, eh? Does she know that?"

Dudley stuck out his foot and Harry tripped over it, flying face forward onto the floor. He grabbed Harry's collar, and pulled him up onto his feet, pushing him up against the wall. "Think you're funny? I'm warning you, cousin. Let's see how tough you are without your silly little magic tricks to help you out, eh? Come on then, let's see how tough you are!"

Dudley was incensed and Harry's face fell when he realized that Dudley was seriously ready to fight him right there in the hall. His first thought was to make a dash for his wand, but that was under a slat in his bedroom--No magic, Harry. No magic. Then he thought he could perhaps talk his way out of it.

"Dudley, calm down, you're overreacting-"

"I'm overreacting? How am I overreacting when you're trying to steal my girlfriend!"

Harry made the terrible mistake of sniggering, "Your girlfriend? You've only just met her!"

Wham. Harry bent over, his stomach throbbing with pain. Dudley had actually punched him square in the stomach! Harry, squinting in pain, looked at his cousin's smug, satisfied grin.

And then, what happened next, even Harry didn't understand. He grimaced, eyebrows narrowed, his left hand nearly shaking from anger. He raised his left hand, which was tense and rigid and absolutely itching to return the favor to Dudley, and took hold of his collar. Dudley moved to get away, but Harry brought his other hand to his collar as well and held on tightly. And then-- he lifted Dudley--lifted him until his feet were dangling above the ground. It didn't even feel as though Harry were holding anything- though Dudley was closer to the weight of a rhinoceros, at that moment, in Harry's rage, he felt as light as a feather.

Dudley's face was frozen with fear as his feet swayed, Harry's electric green eyes visible in the whites of Dudley's. "Don't you dare hit me again," Harry managed to say, and then he slowly set him back down on the floor. Dudley, took a step backwards, still staring at Harry, and then made a mad dash for his room, slamming the door shut behind him.

Harry walked, unsteadily, into his room, quite unsure of what had just happened. How had he been able to do that? He sat onto his bed and ran his fingers through his hair, mystified. It must have been the fact that he'd been so angry-years of taunting had finally put Harry over the edge. He had to smile, remembering the horrified look on Dudley's face.

And then he remembered Imelda- next door at that very moment! Oh, how was he supposed to sleep after a night like this! He pulled out a roll of parchment and ink from under the floor and did what he always did whenever he had things he needed to get out: he wrote a letter to Sirius.

* * *