Harry Potter and the Subemprium Potion

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Chapter One

The Average Birthday

Harry awoke to the sound of an owl tapping its beak against his window. With a soft groan Harry climbed out of bed to let the five owls into his room. They swooped in and settled themselves in various places around the room. The minute owl, Pig, hooted from the headboard of Harry's bed until Harry took the letter from around his leg. Errol, the Weasley's elderly owl, collapsed on Harry's bedspread and stayed there until Harry picked him up and set him gently in Hedwig's cage. It appeared that a school owl had delivered a package as well; Harry supposed that its sender was Hagrid. Hermione used what appeared to be a post owl to send her gift. The last bird to fly in was perhaps the biggest owl that Harry had ever seen and it simply carried a letter. This big, dark owl settled itself on top of the broken TV in the corner and waited patiently for Harry to take care of the other birds in the room. Once all the animals were freed of their various burdens Harry sat on his bed to open them. The first gift was from the Weasley's. Harry loved getting presents from them; Mrs. Weasley was always sure to send some kind of snack to him. This year it happened to be a rich, gooey, chocolate cake coated in oozing chocolate frosting that would stick to the roof of your mouth and coat your tongue in a flavor that wouldn't leave you for hours after having taken the first bite. Which was quite a shame, because Hermione's cake was a fruitcake with bright red strawberries. Hagrid's gift was the usual rock cake, yet amazingly, it seemed that it would give if you tried to take a bite, or even lift it out of it's box. Perhaps Hagrid was taking cooking lessons; it would certainly do him a world of good.

Of course, there were other gifts as well... A new wizarding board game from Ron: The Great Race from Kopparbery. From the box it appeared that you raced across the board, through valleys of Dragons and mountains covered in leprechauns with shalaylie sticks, shouting "if you wanna be a shalaylie clap your hands!" (Which is very odd, considering leprechauns are Irish and the whole game appeared to take place in Sweden). The game seemed to rely more on speed then any true skill. Hermione's gift, predictably, was a new book, Top Ten Broom Sticks of the Twentieth Century.

Harry had saved the best gift for last, a letter from his godfather, Sirius Black.

Dear Harry,

I send my condolences to you on the death of Cedric Diggory. Remember Harry: it was not your fault, any of this. This is the result of a mind that is warped beyond compare. You had no say, none at all in what happened. I am proud of your actions in the face of such a great evil and twisted mind. Don't forget how many powerful wizards have fallen at his hands. You have done something that is worthy of the greatest heroes, in the greatest tales. This is something that has earned you an incredible respect from any wizard who has ever walked this earth, whether they are good or evil, wrong or right, proud or humble, peer or elder. Most importantly, you should remember that Dumbledore himself has shown pride in you, and that, my lad, is truly something rare.

I regret to say it but I am unable to send your gift to you on time. It's not that I didn't get you one, but simply that I it is impossible for me to give it to you at this time. I hope that you enjoy your gift when you receive it. Wishing you the happiest of birthdays.

Love,

S.B.

P.S. Your surprise should arrive later today.

Harry read the letter three times, and when he was through, he tacked the letter to the inside of the lid of his trunk, so that he could always read it, and remind himself of Sirius, and all that he meant to him. This was a letter he would never lose, and never forget. It seemed to be shaping into what Harry had begun to think of as an average birthday, aside from the fact that Sirius' surprise would be a tad bit late, which in fact only heightened his expectations, and gave him something to look forward to at the end of the day, which was probably something that he would need, judging by Aunt Petunia's banging on the door, and demanding that he get up and take the Dursley's new dog, Shartuse, and English bulldog (who hated Harry) for a walk.

Grumbling and frustrated, Harry got up and got dressed then struggled to get the leash onto the ugly mutt properly. Unsurprisingly, the hound with the ridiculously wrinkly and squashed face (Harry suspected the stupid beast had gone chasing a parked car) didn't seem to want to go outside into the forty-five degree rain (and that didn't include the wind-chill factor) and for once, Harry was inclined to agree with the little monster. It wasn't until it began gnawing on his pant leg that Harry gave the leash a sharp tug, which made the brute yelp and set off into the murky pre-sunrise morning.

Yes, it was an average birthday indeed. Aunt Petunia was yelling, Dudley snorting and Harry working his ass off for no reason other than his cousin was both too fat and too lazy to do chores. As Shartuse and Harry were working on their third trip around the block (Dumbledore had forbidden Harry to venture any further) Shartuse went running after a car, dragging Harry after him by the leash. As Harry's grip on the leash slipped he let out a frustrated groan and scrambled to his feet after the gray blur that was Shartuse. It took several minutes of frantic chasing before he was able to retrieve the leash again. It was several more annoyingly long minutes before Shartuse was quiet enough for Harry to realize he was well outside the boundaries Dumbledore had set. As quickly as Shartuse would allow, Harry sped back to Privet Drive, half expecting a bolt of lightning to strike him as he ran. Upon reaching number four, Privet Drive, he was thoroughly scolded for taking Shartuse out in the rain.

Harry quickly released the dog, went to the table to grab a sausage or two (Dudley's vegetarian diet long since abandoned.) He then raced up the stairs to the sanctuary of his room, where he reread the letters from his friends and ticked off yet another day on his countdown to Hogwarts.

Harry spent the remainder of the day on his bed attempting to catch up on sleep, and neglected homework, but his mind kept wandering to the end of the last school term; to the day Cedric Diggory had been killed. Harry couldn't seem to get the image out of his mind: that bright green flash of light and the dead body that was Cedric. Voldemort had simply waved his hand and said "kill the spare." The traitor, as Harry had come to think of Wormtail, took his wand and said those two unforgivable words: "Avada Kedavra"

Harry slammed his book shut and sat up. Before swinging his legs over the edge of his bed, Harry took a calming breath to steady his ringing nerves and took the time to wipe the cold sweat from his brow. Quickly, he threw on some running clothes, clamored down the stairs, and rushed out the front door. Harry had taken to running, hoping to physically exhaust himself so he could no longer dwell on Voldemort. Harry's mind wandered to school. What would school be like next term now that Voldemort was back? The greatest reason Harry Felt for returning to school next term was to be near Dumbledore again. Somehow, Harry was certain he wouldn't feel safe again until he was with Dumbledore. Near the beginning of summer Harry had ordered a subscription to The Daily Prophet in hopes of gaining some information on Voldemort's activities. Alas, it appeared that the ministry still resolutely refused to acknowledge Voldemort's return, despite frequent reports of missing witches and wizards, as well as attacks on muggles. Harry had no qualms in assuming Fudge was at the heart of the ministry's denial. So far there were nearly a dozen ministry officials reported missing and still Fudge refused to admit to Voldemort's return, in fact he refused to admit to anything out of the ordinary at all. Fudge insisted that everything was going smoothly in a vain effort to keep an increasingly apprehensive world calm. Damn! This isn't working, Harry thought as he sat on the grass to stretch after his run.

Upon finishing his stretches Harry hurried back into the house and to the bathroom. Perhaps he could drown his worries in the shower. It seemed like it'd been forever since he'd taken a shower. Harry adjusted the water temperature and stripped down and stepped into the stream. As he washed up, he couldn't keep his mind from wandering to Cho Chang. His days may have been spent waiting for Hogwarts to come around the corner, worrying about Voldemort, and cursing Cornelius Fudge's idiocy, yet his nights were overtly occupied with thoughts of Cho. Although the shower's 'massaging pulse' showerhead (One of Dudley's gifts last Christmas) did have its own strange way of diverting his attention. Just as Harry's mind started to drift down, he heard a rude banging on the door, followed by a shriek from a muffled Aunt Petunia, "Hey! Are you going to stay in there all day? Other people need to use the loo."

Groaning, Harry turned off the steaming water and stepped out of the shower onto the bathmat, dried himself with a towel then wrapped it around his waist and walked out of the bathroom.

Only it wasn't Aunt Petunia outside the door. It was someone completely different. And very large.

Aunt Marge barged past Harry, knocking him off his feet. He'd completely forgotten about Aunt Marge's visit. It left him shocked enough to gape openly at Aunt Marge's existence, looking much like a fish gaping in surprise as the worm he bit tugged him out of the water into someone's boat. He sat staring at Marge until she glared back at him and said, "What are you staring at?" She looked as if she was going to say more but then she looked down and uttered a surprised gasp, with good reason, as Harry quickly realized. When Marge knocked him over, he lost his grip on his towel, and it currently lay flat open underneath him, exposing for everyone to see- Aunt Marge, in particular, who stood riveted to the spot, her eyes not moving a bit.

Harry felt himself turn red, and noticed a general increase in his body temperature. There was a short period where they both were stock-still before they simultaneously reacted. Marge turned and entered the bathroom, while Harry gathered up his towel around him again and rushed into his room where he quickly slammed the door shut and locked it.

Flopping down on the bed Harry stare at the ceiling and mouthed, "Dear god! I can't believe that just happened! What'll she say next? Will she talk to the Dursley's about it? Suggest that they castrate me because incurably criminal boys should never be allowed to have babies? How can she even really complain seeing as it was she that knocked me over? I can't believe that just happened... I can't believe that just happened. What am I going to do? I can't face her now. I. Can't. Believe. That. Just. Happened!"

Harry stopped and took a deep breath, realizing he was hyperventilating. It felt like hours before Harry was calm enough to dress himself properly (pants off head and onto his legs, button buttoned, zipper zipped. shirt over head, not on feet, arms and head in the correct holes, etc.) and run a comb through his hair. Before leaving the room he glanced at the mirrors and realized with a start that he needed to start shaving. Amusedly, Harry toyed with the idea of allowing it to grow long and full, nearly brushing the floor as he walked, much like Dumbledore's. Laughing at the prospect brought color back to his face and he was able to gather the courage to walk out of his room and to the kitchen for supper. However, he'd only reached the door to his room when he heard a knock at the front door. He heard Uncle Vernon gruffly answer the door.

"Yes, who is it?"

"Hello, my name is Sirius Black. I'm here to see Harry."

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Chapter Two

Black is Back

Harry stared dumbly at the door as if he expected it to dance. Sirius came to his house in broad daylight? It didn't make sense. He was a wanted criminal I both the wizarding and muggle worlds. Why would he openly come with so much risk involved? As Harry stood lost for an explanation, Uncle Vernon stood much the same way, completely overcome with fear. Vernon remembered the name of Harry's godfather well. It was the one thing he actually feared about Harry, short of him losing his temper and blowing him up. Harry had said that his godfather was a wanted criminal and even if Vernon really believed in magic, he was still smart enough to know that criminals are dangerous, even when they ARE sane. That wasn't the end of his anxieties though: as soon as he heard the name he attached it to the face of the escaped criminal that had never been caught.

Sirius cleared his throat. "Excuse me?"

Harry rushed down the stairs and to the front door. "Sirius? What? How? Why. Why're you here?"

"I'll explain it all-" Sirius began, but that was as far as he got, because suddenly Uncle Vernon snapped to attention as Aunt Marge made her way heavily down the stairs, finally finished in the bathroom.

"Well, Vernon. I feel better. When's dinner?"

Vernon quickly responded to Sirius, "I'm sorry, there is no Harry here!" then slammed the door in Sirius' face. To Aunt Marge, Uncle Vernon responded, "Why don't you ask Petunia? She's getting dinner together right now." The moment Aunt Marge was in the kitchen, Uncle Vernon turned to Harry and hissed through clenched teeth, "Get rid of him, boy. I don't want people to think we're into anything odd! Criminals! Wizards, phooey!"

Harry watched his uncle walk down the hall and into the kitchen before yanking the door open again. "Sirius! Why're you here?"

"Well, I'd really like to just tell the story once, seeing as it's so complicated."

"Meaning...?"

"I'd like to tell you and your Aunt and Uncle at the same time."

"This really isn't the best time, Sirius. Aunt Marge is here. She's, well, she's the epitome of a Muggle."

"I'm quite sure that your Aunt and Uncle will want to hear this. It really won't take very long. I'm sure you'll like it too. Perhaps, I can speak to just you and your uncle, for a moment?"

Just then Dudley came to the door in search of Harry; Aunt Marge always liked to be sure of Harry's location at all times. "Harry, Mummy and Aunty say-" upon noticing Sirius, Dudley let out a blood curdling scream and ran (as best he could) to hide behind his mother.

The ever-curious Aunt Marge came waddling down the hall. Before Harry or Uncle Vernon could stop her she spotted Sirius. "Vernon! Vernon! The boy's talking with an escaped convict! Petunia! Call four-one-one!"

Vernon stepped in front of Aunt Marge (which is no easy feat when she stands in a hallway) and told her "Get back Marge, and don't make a scene. You don't know what a madman like him'll do."

"Madman?" Sirius interjected indignantly. "How can you call me mad? Look at her!" He indicated Marge, who was flubbering incoherently now.

Harry whispered to Sirius "Let's go outside and talk. Marge is already going to need a good memory charm." He inwardly noted that Marge may just forget the earlier incident. He sure hoped so; it'd save him one big stain on his mind.

Uncle Vernon showed Sirius the door and walked him outside, Harry in tow. "What do you bloody want, Black? Have I mistreated the boy? Do you need something?"

"I don't really need anything."

"Then off with you! I don't want you on my property."

"Wait! Wait: please let me explain... It really would be a bit more comfortable if we were inside, sitting down."

"Oh no! Don't think you're going to be invited to dinner. You'll say it while we're out here"

"Fine. I'm here to take Harry-"

"YES!"

Uncle Vernon glared Harry into silence. Sirius smiled at Harry before continuing. "As I was saying. I'm here to take Harry back to my flat in London proper. Recently, my name was cleared by the Ministry of Magic and thereby cleared with the Muggle ministers. I'll spare you the details, Dursley."

"Wait just a moment. You're telling me that after fifteen years you're going to take this boy out of our house for good? You're going to pay for his schooling. You're going to feed him and clothe him. We'll never have to see him again. Our name won't be associated with that strange stuff any longer?"

"Yes, that's right. You'll never have to see Harry, or myself, again. I've already gotten the leave of the Headmaster to take him to my place."

"His headmaster? What has that bloody frumpy old man have to do with anything?"

Surprised, Sirius responded "didn't anyone tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

"Oh, well, it's not important anyway. Harry and I'll be gone shortly."

"Wait just a moment. You can't take the boy yet. What'll Marge think? You, a criminal, taking Harry someplace? You'll just have to wait for her to leave."

"I thought I had made myself clear: I am not a criminal. My name has been cleared. I have never done anything illegal--well, never anything that would classify me as a criminal anyway." Vernon ignored this short interjection.

Harry groaned and looked pleadingly at his uncle. "Don't you want me gone? Aren't you sick of paying for my upkeep? Aunt Marge doesn't care about me one bit! Just let me go with Sirius, please, Uncle Vernon."

"You, boy, this has nothing to do with you. Get in the house and go sit down to dinner, tell your aunt Petunia that I'll be in shortly."

"Uncle Vernon."

Sirius looking at Harry apologetically and said, "Go on Harry, I'll be in contact with you shortly."

Harry nodded and walked to the house. As Harry opened the door, Shartouse came running out of the house and directly to Sirius. Hackles up, and growling, Shartouse challenged Sirius. For a moment Sirius contemplated turning into a dog and answering the challenge but before he could come to a decision Harry ran over and tried to pull Shartouse back. When Shartouse lunged forward, Harry went flying backwards and landed in the mud. Sheepishly Harry looked up to see Shartouse licking Sirius' face. Uncle Vernon glared at Harry and growled, "Get in the house and get cleaned up while I get rid of this man."

Harry got up and ran to bathroom. He couldn't believe that he'd embarrassed himself so thoroughly in front of his Godfather. But, oh to live with Sirius. To never see the Dursleys again, what he wouldn't do for that. His uncle had no right to tell him that he couldn't go live with the one person who should be his guardian. He knew that his aunt would never allow him to eat at the table when he was as muddy as he was, so he figured he'd better take a shower. Again. While the water was warming he carefully pealed the muddy clothing off and folded the mud in on itself. There really was no point in saving too big clothing; it was just about shot anyway.

Clothing removed and glasses on the counter near the sink, Harry got in the shower for the second time that day. After cleaning himself off, Harry turned off the water and wrapped a towel securely around his waist. Slowly he opened the door and looked around, making sure there were no large, bumbling whale sized women in sight. With care he made his way to his bedroom, slammed the door shut behind him and locked it, twice. Harry leaned back against the door and let the towel drop.

When he heard a low "woof" come from his bed, his eyes snapped open. He scrambled to grab the towel and cover himself. Harry looked at his bed from a crouching position, clutching the towel in a bundle in front of his crotch, and searched for whoever was in his room, watching (pervert). He looked from his bed, to his dresser, to the broken TV in the corner which were all along the same wall, and he didn't see anyone, or thing, for that matter. Perhaps he imagined it. However, it took his body another minute to believe his mind, and let himself slowly stand up, letting go of the towel (it stayed at his waist). He went and took his clothes out of his dresser before putting the towel back on the ground. This time he heard a catcall, which shattered any and all remaining thoughts that he just heard Shartouse outside, and that he was alone in his room.

"Who's there?" Harry called out suspiciously, and rather annoyed.

As Sirius clamored out from under the bed he commented, "Not half bad, Harry. Not even half mast, come to think of it."

Harry turned red and turned around to pull on a pair of red flannel boxers, with tiny golden snitches fluttering around on them. When he had pulled on the boxers he turned to face his Godfather. "Did you HAVE to comment like that? I'll admit, it boosts my confidence, but really. Was it called for? I'm your godson, for god's sake!"

Sirius laughed good-naturedly. "It was meant as a compliment actually."

"Honestly, it's rather unsettling to hear that from another guy, let alone your guardian. Now if it were Cho, I wouldn't mind so much." After shaking his head to clear the thought from his mind, he continued, "It doesn't matter. What're you doing in here?"

"I came to take you back with me. I don't want to lose anymore time with you. I feel bad enough as it is, a few more months and I would go insane. Your uncle and aunt obviously don't want you here and I don't want you to be here any more than they do."

"You heard Uncle Vernon, he said that I could leave just as soon as Aunt Marge does."

Sirius inquired, "And when, pray-tell, will that be? Tomorrow, next week, the day after you go back to school. You don't understand: I want you out of here NOW. It's not safe for you to not be near the wizarding community any longer. You need to be around people who understand how vital your safety is."

Harry shook his head and reached to grab his shirt. "If you're going to take me I should pack, and probably leave a note for my Aunt and Uncle."

"That a boy! Finish getting dressed and we can leave."

Harry quickly threw on his clothes. With mild disgust Sirius commented, "We're going to have to get you some new clothes, some that fit properly. Some that don't appear as if they were designed to be worn by a moose."

Harry laughed and began to pack. Quickly he opened his trunk and began to pack. Just before he closed it he slithered under the bed, pried open the floor board and pulled out all of his gifts and everything else he'd stashed under there. When he came out, Sirius was giving him a quizzical look. "I had to hide things, from the Dursleys. they didn't exactly approve of me receiving letters, or gifts, form those 'strange people' they didn't exactly believe in me having friends."

"Well, that's going to change as soon as we get to my flat. You get your own bedroom, which we have to decorate and furnish, by the way. You can put anything and everything in there. Short of a dragon."

From the foot of the stairs his Aunt Petunia screeched "Harry! You missed dinner, you can do with out for tonight! Get down here and do the dishes!"

Harry looked to Sirius "I can't exactly apparate yet. I'll get the dishes done and I'll meet you on the corner?"

Sirius nodded and turned his wand to the trunk spoke an incantation and the trunk shrank to the size of a thimble. After sticking the thimble sized trunk in his pocket he walked to the window and calmly jumped out. Harry ran to the window and looked down, just in time to see Sirius floating softly to the ground. Before turning into a dog and lopping down the street, Sirius looked up and waved farewell to Harry.

With a resigned sigh Harry walked to the door of his bedroom and unlocked both locks. Slowly he made his way down the stairs and to the kitchen, where Aunt Marge and Uncle Vernon were each drinking a glass of brandy and having a rather large slice of raspberry pie. Aunt Petunia sat near by, knitting what looked like a large orange bowl, but was probably a new sweater for Dudley.

Whistling, Harry set to work on the dishes. Vernon's mustache visibly twitched and he barked for Harry to shut up. Harry tried, he really did. He wasn't trying to make his uncle upset, but he couldn't help it. He was just too happy to be leaving this awful place that he had to smile and whistle, which only made Aunt Marge very suspicious. "What're you up to boy? What've you got planned? Or have you already done it? Did you steal from your aunt and uncle? I keep telling you, Vernon, the only way to cure him will be to shoot the poor boy. He's bad to the bone; you can see it on his face. The messy hair, the calculating eyes. It's almost as if he knows something that you don't. Take him out of the gene pool I say. I wouldn't let him date my daughter! In fact, I wouldn't let him date one of my dogs. He's just not good enough for them. Castrate him, that's the answer to all problems generated by a male criminal, I always say." At the last remark Vernon, Harry, and even Dudley (who'd never be able to have a partner without killing them) cringed. "I bet you he stole something, better count your silverware, Petunia."

Harry rolled his eyes and continued to do the dishes. As soon as he had washed, dried, and put away the last dish, he turned to his Aunt and Uncle, "I'm going for a run before I go to bed. See you in an hour or so." With those last couple of words, Harry headed to the door. The moment it was shut behind him he began walking, with an unintentional bounce to his step, towards the corner, and hopefully to freedom.