Harry Potter and the Circle of Oblivion

Dumbledore's eyes fixed on Harry as he finished. The other adults looked on approvingly and Harry was instantly convinced they already knew of the arrangement.

“Mine?”

“Wicked!” Ron said, his mouth hanging open.

“Yours, Harry. Now, I know it is a bit much to take on at your age, and all of us here will help until you are ready to make it your own, but I believe Sirius would have wanted you to know this now instead of at the allotted time of your graduation from Hogwarts.”

“I do love to decorate!” Tonks said approvingly, “You'll let me help, won't you?”

Harry could only nod his head in bewilderment and barely tasted the treacle tart that sat in front of him. He had a home. Granted there were house-elf heads hanging from the walls that Hermione would never approve of, but he had something of his own.

The three of them scrambled upstairs after dinner. Mrs. Weasley had sent a bowl of chicken soup and pumpkin juice to Ginny, which Hermione administered before returning to Harry and Ron's room.

“Your own house!” Ron was saying, “We could all move in here! Seamus and Dean and Neville…”

“Suddenly this house is better than The Burrow, then?” Hermione asked, settling into a chair by the window and opening a book.

“Oh come off it, Hermione! He's got his own house!”

“Look, Ron, when the time comes, I'll be painting and stripping furniture with everyone else, but for now, don't you think there are more important things at hand?”

“Like?” Ron asked, incredulous.

“She's right.” Harry was stern. “Did you notice that no one even mentioned Voldemort? Oh!” He shrieked, “and I didn't even ask Dumbledore if I'd be back on the Quidditch team!”

“Of course you will,” Ron handed him a Chocolate Frog, which leapt onto the window by Hermione before she chunked it back to them. “With Umbridge gone, McGonagall will put you back on faster than you can catch a snitch. Harry! We'll be on the team together!”

“Quidditch!” Hermione was obviously disgusted, “Voldemort could be lurking outside the window and you'd both have a good game first!”

“Would not!” Ron returned.

Harry ignored them, “He's out there and we all know the Order isn't sitting by waiting for him to find us - even if they didn't discuss it tonight. And there's something else going on. What Dumbledore said about no longer treating us like we don't know what's ahead of us… I don't know… It's like he…” Harry thought back to his conversation with Dumbledore at the end of last term.

“Has a plan for us.” Hermione finished. “I noticed it too. He glossed over it talking about Sirius leaving you the house, but if he's going to keep us informed from now on, he must have some sort of strategy or something that he thinks will help us when Voldemort does show again.”

“Stop saying his name!” Ron shrieked.

“If you're going to fight Ronald, you'd better be able to use your enemy's name!” Hermione crossed her arms and gave him a patronizing look.

“She is right about that.”

“Don't tell her she's right twice in a row,” Ron rolled his eyes.

***

The summer was flying by. Reports of Voldemort remained few and far between but no one took the silence for granted. The trio was sure much more was going on within the Order than they knew and it lay in the back of their minds on a daily basis along with Dumbledore's eerie promise. Harry knew that the day was fast approaching when the reports and the whirring pool of fear would start back in on them all, but for now he was content to spend the days lazily, his friends milling around him. It had been so quiet, they had even started repairing bits of the house. Dumbledore had found a way to remove the screeching curtains and Hermione had promptly removed the house-elf heads from the walls. “Honestly, it's barbaric.” Ginny was forever rearranging the furniture and Mrs. Weasley had cleaned the windows so the sunlight shone through. Lupin would occasionally walk through shaking his head, mumbling about obsessive women, as Tonks had taken to bringing home paint chips from muggle hardware shops.

“Can't you just paint it with your wand?” Harry asked.

“Of course. But I have to find the right color first. And you have to approve it.”

Harry only nodded dumbly, thinking it funny how Tonks, Hermione, Ginny and Mrs. Weasley had taken on the project as a sort of life changing decision.

“It's just paint.” Ron muttered one day and then said brightly, “But you know what we could do, Harry? Put a pitch out back for some pick-up games and flying.”

Both boys had immediately begun discussing how this would be accomplished.

***

“Happy Birthday!” Harry stirred slightly, squinting his eyes against the light that was perched on his bed.

“Do you think you can put that thing out, Hermione? It is…” He searched for his glasses on the bedside table and she put them swiftly into his hands. “12:01 in the morning.”

“Exactly!” She smiled as Harry propped himself up on his elbows.

“Honestly, Hermione,” Ron rolled over, “put out the light.”

Hermione sighed, annoyed, “Nox,” she commanded and the tip of her wand went dark.

“Happy Birthday, mate.” Ron said before rolling back over, the words `raving mad' spat over his shoulder.

Hermione looked slightly disappointed. “I wanted to be the first to wish you a happy 16^th birthday. I guess I shouldn't have woke you.”

“It's ok,” Harry sat up, the moonlight streaming through the window enough to place a shadow on her face.

She smirked. “Come on.”

“What?”

“Come on. I want to show you something.”

“Now?”

“I'm restless.” She shrugged.

“Girls…” This was one of those rare moments when Harry was reminded of Hermione's penchant to prove a bit more `female' than he usually gave her credit for. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, “Where are we going?”

“First off, I heard what you said and I don't appreciate your tone,” she teased, “and second, grab a jumper.”

“We're going outside? You know we can't…”

“Harry, do you really think I would flaunt you all over Britain at 12 o'clock in the morning?”

“Alright.” He grabbed his Weasley jumper and tried, unsuccessfully, to flatten a stray piece of hair.

“Lumos!” He whispered once they were in the hallway. “Lead the way.”

Hermione grabbed his hand and pulled him toward a door at the end of the hallway. Harry had never noticed it before, “What's this?”

“You'll see.” She smiled and murmured “Alohomora,” before the door creaked open. “Silencio!” she hissed and the door went quiet.

Harry looked and saw a staircase in front of him. “Where does this go?”

“So many questions.” She had the same light in her eyes that Harry often saw in Dumbledore's.

They made their way up the tiny staircase and were stopped by a small door directly above them. Hermione once again whispered, “Alohomora,” the lock clicked and she pushed on the opening.

Harry found himself on the roof of Grimmauld Place.

“Someone will see us!”

“No they won't. I asked Professor Dumbledore, and the cloaking spell covering the house surrounds it by six feet on all sides. Even underground.”

Harry looked at her, amazed. “I would never have thought to ask that.”

“That's why you have me.”

“Apparently,” he marveled. “It's so nice to be outside.” The stars shone above brightly and for a moment, Harry felt like he hadn't a care in the world. He sat down and Hermione followed suit, their shoulders touching, backs against the chimney.

“I thought you might like it. I could tell you were feeling a bit cooped up.”

“Just a bit. One more of Tonks' songs yesterday and I might have petrified her.” Hermione laughed, remembering the time she had petrified their friend Neville Longbottom during first year.

“I never really apologized to him, did I?” She asked, still laughing.

“Not unless you count the second right before you did it!” Harry nudged her shoulder with his and they fell silent for a moment. “I bet Sirius put the passage here sometime after he got out of Azkaban.” Harry said quietly.

“Probably.” Hermione answered, hoping her voice didn't betray how badly she wanted him to talk to her… for his own sake.

“He would have been missing the stars, the fresh air… everything.”

Hermione noticed a glimmer of wetness in his emerald eyes.

“Why?” Harry asked suddenly, his voice cracking. “Why did he leave me here to do this alone?”

“You're not alone, Harry.” Hermione placed an arm around his shoulder.

“Yes I am. You don't understand.”

“Harry…”

He turned to look at her, eyes swimming as the moonlight made his lightening scar seem to glow, “The prophecy.”

“What?”

“From the Department of Mysteries, remember?”

Hermione thought back to that fateful night at the Ministry of Magic and shook her head, Lucious Malfoy's voice sneaking into her brain and forcing out a shiver. “Of course.”

“Dumbledore told me about it last year after… after Sirius… well, I was really angry at him and he let me in on a lot of things. Things he's known since the beginning. Things he said he'd been trying to protect me from and knew he couldn't anymore.”

“Like the prophecy?”

“For one.” Harry felt Hermione's arm move from his shoulder and watched as she hooked it through his arm instead. It was all coming out in a fury and he felt compelled to let it spill forth. “The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches… Born to those who have thrice denied him, born as the seventh month dies… and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not… and either must die at the hand of the other,” Hermione stiffened beside him, “for neither can live while the other survives… The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…”

Hermione took in a deep breath. “You…”

“I've memorized it,” he said cynically.

“Oh, Harry…” Tears were forming in her eyes now. “Why didn't you tell me sooner?”

“For what reason? So you could worry about something you had no control over?”

“It said you would have power Voldemort doesn't?” She questioned.

“I don't really understand that part.” He absentmindedly wiped a stray tear from her cheek, “Dumbledore said something about a room in the Department of Mysteries that contained this `power' I hold… a power that Voldemort is scared of. Maybe it's that same power that my mother's sacrifice held, I don't know. Thing is, I don't feel very powerful.”

“You don't know how strong you are. The things you've done, Harry… practicing wizards stand in awe.”

“But it doesn't matter, because in the end it comes down to me and him.”

“And us, Harry. Why do you think Dumbledore has us here? He knows Ron and I won't leave you… he knows.”

“I can't endanger either of you.”

“I can't let you go alone.”

Harry started to argue, but she shushed him. “I won't discuss it further, Harry Potter. And don't dare say that to Ron, he's more hopeless than I am.”

He smiled in spite of himself. He could never win an argument with her, though he knew this one would be replayed a million times.

“Why,” she ventured, “did Dumbledore say that your time was sufficient with the Dursley's?”

“It seems that because my aunt shares my mother's blood, remnants of her protection are greatest at Privet Drive. Going there once a year… I don't know… maybe it puts some sort of protective shield around me.” A wry smile formed on his face when he saw the look on hers, “Strange, isn't it? They keep me locked in a cupboard and tucked away in an upstairs room with bars on my windows, but I'm safe.”

“That is the most important thing,” she said rationally, trying not to let any anger show through.

“Sometimes I wonder. I feel so much safer around all of you.”

“I'm sure Dumbledore knows that and so does Voldemort. It makes this whole arrangement more vulnerable.”

Harry nodded, the reality that they were all in danger not one he wanted to contemplate at the moment. “I miss him.” His voice was barely audible as the conversation returned to Sirius.

“So do I.”

They sat silently for a moment until Harry whispered, “It's not fair.” His face was lifted to the sky. “It's not fair!” His head fell softly onto her shoulder and Hermione's heart felt suddenly heavy as he shuddered slightly. She knew those two words held every emotion he had in them and she could find no proper worded response. Instead, she pulled him to her, arms around him. She heard the ragged breaths begin to even slowly, mending with her own and somehow, they fell asleep. She awoke a few hours later, light beginning to speck on the horizon.

“Harry.” She said softly, keeping her arms protectively around him, despite the crick in her neck, “Harry…”

He stirred, thoughts flooding back. It had felt good to tell someone. To cry. And he was suddenly very glad Ron hadn't joined them on the roof.

“Look,” She said as he raised his head and looked toward the sky dotted with pink and purple. “Happy Birthday, Harry.” She smiled warmly.

“Thanks.” He whispered. And she knew he wasn't referring to birthday wishes.

They returned to the house a few minutes later. Soon everyone would be stirring and it would send the house into a frenzy to find them missing. They bade one another goodnight outside Harry's door and she squeezed his hand reassuringly before disappearing into her room. Harry moved to his bed and grinned at Ron, mouth hanging open, still asleep and slid back under his own covers.

It seemed like seconds later that a loud horn was blowing in his ear.

Harry sat straight up in his bed, eyes wild. “Bloody…” but a laugh stifled the rest of his sentence. The entire family of Grimmauld Place stood at the foot of his bed, ridiculous hats and masks covering their faces.

“Happy Birthday!” They shouted in unison.

“My you are a late sleeper,” Mrs. Weasley pointed at the clock. “It's nearly 10!”

Harry didn't think that was very late, but held his tongue owing to the noise about him and the fact that he didn't want to have to explain why he'd slept so late. That was between him and Hermione.

“You've never had a proper birthday party, mate and we're here to fix that!” Ron shouted from behind a Hippogriff mask.

By the end of the day, Harry was sure no birthday would ever be better than 16.