Harry Potter and the Heartsight Legacy

Disclaimer: I own nothing Harry Potter and can only hold claim to original ideas and plot within the story. I am making no money off of this so don’t waste your time trying to sue me!

Author’s Note: This story and its brilliance cannot be credited all to me. I am co-writing this Fanfic along with my brilliant grammar queen extraordinaire, Eowyn Edoras! Please enjoy the fruits of our work! And please don’t forget to review!

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Harry Potter and the Heartsight Legacy

Chapter One: Welcomed Changes

It was the middle of a sizzling hot June day. Most of the inhabitants of Privet Drive were outside in their yards, enjoying the sunshine and gossiping with neighbors. The one exception was a sixteen-year-old boy, nearing seventeen, in one of the upstairs bedrooms of Number Four. Harry Potter, for the first time in what seemed like years, was being left blissfully alone. He was involved in the same pastime that had occupied him ever since he had returned to his aunt and uncle’s home for the summer — lying on his back and staring at the ceiling, memorizing every bump, crack and crevice. Somehow it just didn’t seem to matter whether he did anything. If it wasn’t for the newspaper he was having delivered through his window every morning, Harry doubted that he would have bothered to get out of bed at all.

The most recent issue of that paper, the Daily Prophet, was now lying on the floor beside the bed. Its front page revealed a picture of several men and women dressed in robes, apparently in the midst of a heated but silent argument. Harry Potter did not even glance at the wildly gesticulating figures in the picture. Compared with other things he had seen recently, a moving photograph was of little interest.

Only six years ago, Harry would have been amazed at a newspaper that was delivered to his window every morning by an owl, even if the pictures in it didn’t have lives of their own. But then, so much had happened in the past six years that it seemed like a different lifetime. It was a different Harry Potter who had been mistreated for eleven years by an aunt and uncle who were frightened of him for reasons they never explained. That was before Hagrid had found him and told him the secret of his past. Harry’s mother and father had not been killed in a car crash, as Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had maintained. They had been murdered. What was more incredible was that they had been murdered magically, by an evil wizard named Voldemort. What had bordered on unbelievable was that not only was Voldemort a wizard, Harry’s parents were as well. So was Harry. But even among wizards, Harry was extraordinary. As a baby he had defeated Voldemort, without even knowing what he was doing. Among wizards, Harry Potter was already a legend.

That day had marked the beginning of the best years of Harry’s life. He had enrolled in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where he had met other young wizards and learned how to use his magical powers. Two other students there, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley, were now great friends of his. He had even met his godfather, Sirius Black, a wizard like himself and the closest thing to a father that Harry had ever had.

Now Harry reflected darkly that the best years of his life were over, at least for a very long time. Voldemort had returned to power, and Harry knew his life would be in danger as long as the other wizard lived. Sirius was dead, killed just two years ago by a Death Eater, one of Voldemort’s supporters. Harry still had nightmares about that. Life looked bleak.

Suddenly Harry was snapped out of his reverie by the sound of Aunt Petunia’s shrill voice. “Harry! HARRY! HARRY POTTER!”

“Yes, Aunt Petunia! I’m coming!” Harry called as he shuffled down the stairs. “What do you want?”

“You haven’t touched your lunch!”

“I’m not hungry.”

“I don’t want those friends of yours to come marching in here because you refuse to eat. Now, sit down. You did remember to send off your letter today, didn’t you? We don’t want them coming for another a false alarm, now do we?”

Harry choked back a laugh as he reflected back on the incident from the previous year. “Hey, it was your fault you didn’t believe me! I told you that if you didn’t let me write to them regularly they really would come charging in here like a bunch of animals. Uncle Vernon was the one who locked Hedwig’s cage, otherwise they wouldn’t have come.”

“Yes, but how were we to know you were being literal? People transforming themselves into animals! The place was like a zoo! When I imagine what the neighbors would have thought, if they’d noticed –-” Aunt Petunia shook her head. “Just make sure you send that letter. Now hurry and eat your lunch so we can go shopping.”

Harry looked up at his aunt with an expression of absolute shock. Aunt Petunia was the last person he would ever have expected to buy him anything.

“Er —Aunt Petunia, are you feeling all right?” he stuttered, thinking there had to be some mistake.

“I’m fine, Harry. I just noticed that you’ve outgrown all your clothes and need new ones. We should go to London to get them. Then if we have time, and you don’t pester me too much, I might consider taking you to that Peaky Cauldron place your kind always talks about.”

Harry sat at the table with his mouth hanging open, unsure of how much more shock he could take. His aunt was not only being civil but actually taking an interest in his life. Inexplicably, she was sitting calmly and talking about the two of them going to the Leaky Cauldron, an entrance from London to the wizarding world. He didn’t even know she knew about that place. He certainly had never told her about it. The thought crossed his mind that this could be a Death Eater using a polyjuice potion to impersonate his aunt, but that was impossible. Dumbledore had said that Voldemort couldn’t harm him while he was at his aunt and uncle’s house; surely that went for Voldemort’s supporters as well?

About two hours later Harry found himself in a high fashion Muggle clothing store, holding a growing pile of assorted jeans, sweaters, and tee shirts of all sizes and styles. Once Harry had tried on what he thought must have been the entire store, his aunt chose several articles of clothing, bought them, and hustled him on to the next store.

The sun was setting when Aunt Petunia stopped the car in front of the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron.

“I don’t see anything,” she said, peering out the window at the row of buildings. “Are you sure this is the right place?”

“Don’t worry, Muggles aren’t supposed to see it. It’s there.” Harry replied reassuringly. “I’ll take you inside.” Harry started to open the car door, then stopped and turned back to his aunt. “Aunt Petunia, why are you doing this? Not that I don’t appreciate it,” he added hastily, “but you’re acting so different. You went from not even letting me talk about wizards to wanting to meet some.”

“Well, Harry – dear,” Aunt Petunia said rather awkwardly, “one of your friends said something to me when they were in the house last year – I think it was the bird.”

Harry grinned and waited for her to continue.

“All he said was that I had no idea what you’ve been through already, and if I knew half of it I wouldn’t treat you so badly. But it made me start thinking. When Vernon and I took you in, we thought that if we tried hard enough we could pretend that you weren’t anything out of the ordinary. We kept hoping that maybe you wouldn’t start making things happen that no one could explain, and then that maybe you wouldn’t get a letter inviting you to that school. But it looks like we were wrong about that. So we’ve been making your life perfectly miserable for no reason other than that we refused to face the facts. And as if that weren’t enough, now this – this murderer who killed your parents is loose again. And I know enough about your world to have some idea of what will happen if I don’t let you stay with your family. So I thought we might as well get along, since it looks like we’re stuck with each other.” Aunt Petunia gave a tight smile. Harry smiled back, deciding in a moment that his aunt wasn’t so bad after all. He got out of the car, shut the door behind him – and froze.

“Harry? Is something wrong?” Harry barely heard his aunt’s question; he was focused intently on the spot where he was sure he had seen something a moment before. There was nothing there. He shook his head.

“It’s nothing, Aunt Petunia. For a moment I thought I saw someone – someone I knew. But I didn’t.” Harry started towards the Leaky Cauldron, trying to look casual. Then he heard a voice he hadn’t heard in two years: a voice he would have given anything never to hear again.

Author’s Note: We just wanted to take the time to say thanks you to all that have reviewed so far! You have no idea what it means to both of us! We apologize of the long wait but we both got trapped with a pretty bad case of writer’s block and lack of time. Just remember though, we take as long as we do to ensure that the finished product is the best that we can make it. You would not believe the number of drafts we go through on our journey to perfection! Please enjoy the new chapter and as always remember to review!! Your comments, no matter how small, are always appreciated!!!

Chapter 2: Fear and Understandings

“Why, it’s little baby Potter! What are you doing away from home, little Potter? And without a guard, oh my. Trying to sneak away, are you?”

Harry whirled around.

“You!” he gasped.

“In person.” Bellatrix Lestrange smiled nastily and pulled out her wand with a flourish. Aunt Petunia gave a little shriek and stepped back behind the car as Harry instinctively raised his own wand. Lestrange laughed.

“So brave, aren’t you? If I didn’t know better, I would have thought you meant to hex me in the middle of a Muggle-filled street. In front of an innocent Muggle. That’s against Ministry regulations, you know,” she continued mockingly.

Harry felt fury welling up in him, but he kept his wand pointed steadily at Lestrange. “The hell with Ministry regulations,” he said quietly. “I’ll kill you where you stand.” Aunt Petunia shrieked again. Lestrange looked unperturbed.

“Ah, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? You want to get back at me for what I did to my dear cousin? I hear you were quite attached to him. What a pity none of your little magic tricks are really dangerous.”

Harry would have liked nothing more than to prove her wrong, but with difficulty he restrained himself. It was true that the spell he would have most liked to use – Avada Kedavra, the killing curse – was beyond his power. It could only be used by someone who enjoyed killing, not someone who was merely very angry. Lestrange knew this; it was she who had told him so. Now she was standing still and watching, as if waiting for him to do something. As much as it frustrated him to retreat, Harry decided his best chance was to make it into the Leaky Cauldron. Lestrange would never dare follow him into a room full of other wizards.

“Did Voldemort send you here after me?” Harry stepped back as he spoke, hoping she would interpret his movement as fear.

“What makes you think he would send me? The Dark Lord wants to kill you himself, you know. Finding you here was nothing more than a lucky coincidence. Lucky for me, that is. Here I was worrying that I was missing all the action, and now I find that you’ve been away from home all along. My master will not be pleased when he learns that you’ve escaped him again. How fortunate that I’m here to rectify his mistake. Ava—”

“Expelliarmus!” Harry’s spell caught Lestrange off guard; her wand flew out of her hand and clattered to the pavement. Both she and Harry dove after it, but she reached it first.

“Crucio!”

The spell hit Harry before he even saw it coming. He collapsed on the ground, moaning; it was all he could do not to scream. He had been put under this curse before, but that knowledge did nothing to lessen its intensity. He was only dimly aware of Lestrange standing over him, smirking. After a few interminable seconds, the pain stopped, and Harry got shakily to his feet.

“That,” said Lestrange, “was for your pathetic little attempt at defending yourself. Do you want to try again? I’m not in a hurry.” She raised her wand again and pointed it straight at Harry’s heart.

There was a sudden screaming of car tires, and both Harry and Lestrange turned in astonishment to see a car zooming towards them. As they both instinctively backed up, the car swerved to bear down on Lestrange, who Disapparated just in time to avoid being hit.

The car screeched to a halt, and Aunt Petunia shouted “Get in, quick!” through the open window. Harry yanked open the car door, threw himself into the front seat, and Aunt Petunia sped off.

For several minutes Aunt Petunia drove quickly, occasionally taking a sharp turn down a side street or doubling back the way they had come. Harry took the time to catch his breath and convince himself that there was no way Bellatrix Lestrange could Apparate into the back seat. After a while, he managed to break the uncomfortable silence that had settled over the car.

“Aunt Petunia?” he ventured.

“Yes, Harry?”

“Thanks. Thank you for everything today. I don’t know what I would have done without you, back there.”

“Oh— don’t worry about it. It was the least I could do, really. No more than she would have expected.”

“She?” Harry wondered if Aunt Petunia could be talking about his mother. He hesitated to mention it, though; his aunt and uncle had never approved of discussion about his parents. But Aunt Petunia’s next words surprised him, even more than had her offer to take him shopping.

“Lily. Your mother. I’ve never told you much about your mother, have I? Don’t answer that, I’ll explain.” She paused and took a deep breath. “I don’t quite know where to begin.”

“Why are you telling me this now? I thought you wanted to pretend my parents never existed.”

“I did. But so much has changed now, Harry. I met some of your kind at the train station when I came to pick you up at the beginning of the summer, and they told me about the prophecy. They gave me some idea of what you’re up against, what this Lord Voldemort is capable of. I don’t want to make the same mistake again, and wait until it’s too late.”

“Again? Too late for what? Aunt Petunia, what’s going on?”

“Listen. You’ve never met your grandparents, my mother and father. They’ve been dead since before you were born. You knew that. But I never told you how they died.”

Harry couldn’t see where this was going yet, but he thought he could guess. “Voldemort killed them?”

“Yes. Him or his supporters. I don’t know, I wasn’t there; your parents were first to bring me the news. Maybe he knew they were related to Lily, or maybe they were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. But I never forgave Lily for getting our family mixed up in your world in the first place. That’s why I tried so hard to ignore her after that. I was sure that if she hadn’t been what she was, it never would have happened.”

“Voldemort never needed a reason to kill,” Harry said quietly. “He’s proved that often enough.”

“That’s what your friends convinced me of. And they said you would be the one to conquer him, if anyone can. So I want you to know that you can count on me. No matter what happens next.”

“Thanks, that means a lot to me.” Harry replied. He was thinking bitterly that Voldemort’s influence on his life had been even greater than he had previously imagined. All these years he could have been on good terms with his aunt; instead, she had chosen to mend their relationship only when she learned that Harry’s life was in danger. No, he realized suddenly, all their lives were in danger. The Death Eaters killed senselessly, and Voldemort would stop at nothing to remove any threat to his dominion . . .

Harry sat bolt upright as he remembered something Bellatrix Lestrange had said to him. “Here I was worrying that I was missing all the action, and now I find that you’ve been away from home all along. My master will not be pleased when he learns that you’ve escaped him again”.

“Aunt Petunia, we have to get home now!” His heart pounded as Aunt Petunia stepped harder on the gas pedal. It couldn’t be true; Dumbledore had said it was impossible, nevertheless Harry suddenly knew exactly what Lestrange had meant. Judging by Aunt Petunia’s suddenly reckless driving, she too was dreading the worst. When Privet Drive came into view, they both had their eyes fixed on the green figure illuminating the sky above Number Four.

“It’s too late,” Aunt Petunia whispered.

Authors' Notes: We are terribly sorry for the long wait. Right after the release of the second chapter both Eowyn and I were swamped with work and were then stuck with an unfortunately large case of writer's block. We are working on getting our chapters out at a quicker rate and will try to do better with the next chapter. We are making no promises though as to the next update. I must say though; nothing works better for inspiration then tons of reviews!! (Hint Hint!) Please don't hesitate to voice your opinions! Now without further adieu chapter 3!!! Enjoy and REVIEW!!!!!

CHAPTER 3: An Ominous Warning

Aunt Petunia jerked the car to a stop in front the house. Harry's mouth dropped open in horror as they both took in the scene before them. This was not the neat, orderly Number Four, Privet Drive they had left behind earlier that day. Remnants of what used to be the front door were scattered across the lawn. There was a large crowd of people milling about in robes of various colors - Ministry officials and Order members. A few were working on removing the Dark Mark from the sky; others were trying to hold back nosey neighbors. Total chaos was the only way to describe it.

Harry turned to glance at Aunt Petunia. She was sitting rigidly still with both hands gripping the steering wheel. Knowing that she had encountered this scene before, the day her parents were killed, Harry could only imagine what she was feeling now.

Finally Aunt Petunia snapped out of her shock. She jumped from the car, slammed the door, and bolted for the house. Harry got out more slowly, looking around for a familiar face in the crowd—anything to make the whole situation seem less like a nightmare. At the door he nearly ran into Remus Lupin, his third-year Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher and an old school friend of his father's. Harry opened his mouth to ask the question that had been on his mind since he'd seen the Dark Mark; he had to ask it, even though there was only one possible answer.

Before he could form the words, Harry heard an awful scream from inside the house.

“Noooo! Not Vernon! Not my Dudders! No!”

Remus looked at Harry and nodded gravely. Harry ran into the house, came to the living room, and stopped abruptly.

Uncle Vernon was sprawled on the floor in front of the doorway, his face frozen in a terrified expression. Aunt Petunia was kneeling beside him, now sobbing quietly but inexorably. Further into the room, Dudley lay beside an overturned chair, as if he had knocked it down trying to escape. A lamp had fallen off a table and shattered on the floor. Glancing around quickly, Harry noticed something on the far wall. It looked like a message. Almost against his will, he stepped over the broken lamp and leaned forward to get a closer look. It was a message - written in blood.

Your time is up, Harry Potter.

And below that, in smaller letters:

“Either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives…”

Harry was still staring when he heard Remus come up softly behind him.

“Harry?”

“How could he do this?” Harry asked without turning. “The house was protected. My relatives…”

“When Voldemort used your blood to return, it enabled him to overcome the protection given by your mother's family. We don't know how he found out about the prophecy, but it must have made him recognize that he would have to attack you himself, rather than sending Death Eaters who couldn't reach you here. I'm very sorry, Harry.”

“They didn't deserve this,” Harry muttered. “I didn't like them much, but I never would have wanted them dead. They were innocent. Innocent…” Feeling nauseated, he averted his eyes from the writing and the bodies by fixing his gaze on the blank television screen in the corner. He could feel rage building inside him, making his hands shake as he fought back a sudden urge to scream.

The television exploded.

There was a loud bang as pieces of the screen flew across the room, making several Order members duck. Harry's blood roared in his ears and his vision blurred strangely, as if he were looking at the room through a thick fog. He stood blinking for a moment, utterly bewildered. When his head cleared again, he became aware of Remus and Tonks whispering from behind him. He turned to look at them questioningly.

“Did you do that, Harry?” Tonks asked.

“No. I was just staring—I don't think I could—did I?” Harry couldn't tell if she was joking or serious. But Remus was looking at him with new interest.

“Harry, try to think back. Has anything like that ever happened before?”

“What, me making something explode? Well, yeah. Loads of times.”

“I mean without a wand. Without even trying to do it.”

Harry thought harder. “Once, I made my Aunt Marge's wine glass explode. She was insulting my mum. I didn't mean to do it.” He caught a significant look pass between Remus and Tonks. “What?” he demanded. “What's so important?”

“We can't be certain, yet.” Remus replied. “I'll talk to Dumbledore about it. Meanwhile, Harry, tell us if anything else happens that seems—out of the ordinary.”

“I think I have a right to know what you're talking about,” Harry said rather loudly, “as it has to do with me.”

“All right. Keep in mind that I'm no expert on this subject, so I may be on the wrong track altogether. But I think it's possible that you have just used a highly unusual form of magic. One that is also extremely rare.” Remus stopped suddenly and looked over Harry's shoulder. Harry was about to ask him to continue, when he heard someone else speak.

“Do go on. I'm sure the Daily Prophet would be quite interested in any theories concerning young Harry Potter's latest… nonconformity.”

Harry whirled, finding himself face to face with a witch wearing jeweled spectacles and holding a green quill.

“Rita Skeeter,” Remus said stiffly. “I believe the reporters were asked to remain outside.”

“What are you doing here?” Harry demanded with somewhat less tact.

“Why, I flew in through the open door! Besides, your silly girlfriend's threats don't scare me anymore. You are looking at a legally registered Animagus, Mr. Potter! So, tell me, how do you feel about this attack on your family? Angry? Frightened? Could you tell me more about this prophecy concerning you and You-Know-Who?”

Harry stared at her blankly for a moment. “Hermione is not my girlfriend,” he managed finally. Ron would never forgive him if that rumor got started again. Hermione had caused enough tension between them already. If she loved Ron better than Harry it was time that he, Harry, accepted the facts.

There was a loud pop of someone Apparating and Harry started, surprised at himself for getting lost in thought when so much was going on around him. The new arrival was Albus Dumbledore.

“Hello, Rita. You must have lost your way. This room is off-limits to reporters.” Dumbledore sounded as relaxed as ever, but his blue eyes had lost their usual twinkle.

“Oh, but Dumbledore-“

“There are no exceptions. You will be admitted later, along with the rest.”

Rita Skeeter scowled at all of them before transforming herself into a beetle and buzzing out the broken window.

“She'll have seen the message,” Remus said quietly to Dumbledore. “That line of the prophecy will make national headlines tomorrow, maybe international. How did he find out?”

“I don't know, Remus. I fear the worst.” Dumbledore sighed heavily. “Such speculations must wait. The important thing now is that Harry remains safe. Harry, go pack your things; we'll be leaving shortly. Remus, if you would accompany him? Tonks, would you be so kind as to help Mrs. Dursley?”

Harry and Remus went up to Harry's room and wordlessly began sorting through the books and clothes scattered about on the floor. The silence in the room was oppressive, broken only by an occasional swoosh as Remus cast a spell to speed the process. Harry found himself searching for something to say, but it was Remus who finally spoke.

“Harry, are you all right?”

“I'm fine.” He was feeling better, had been ever since that strange explosion in the living room. “I'm just disgusted. I knew what Voldemort was capable of, but to have him burst into my life like this—I always felt like the Dursleys' was safe, somehow. And I'm worried about Aunt Petunia.”

Remus nodded. “I knew your aunt slightly, before she was married. She and your mother were very close. Her parents' deaths must have hit her hard; I never would have guessed that she would turn her back on the wizarding world.”

“Oh, but the wizarding world has such charms,” Harry replied bitterly. “Who would want to turn their back on an evil wizard who tries to kill people for being Muggles, and who sends creatures in black cloaks to suck out the souls of people who oppose him, and—”

“Harry, I know you've been through a lot. More than most of us can imagine. But would you really rather you had never heard of Hogwarts?”

“No. Of course not. That world is where I belong. It's just—everything that's happened, since he came back—it's not enough that one of us has to be killed, or that Cedric Diggory died for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, or that two years ago he killed Sirius and it was partly my fault, or last year when the dementors attacked Hogsmeade and the school had to start sheltering refugees. Will he never be satisfied with the amount of destruction he's caused? People just want to be left alone!”

“I know. We all feel the same way. Don't give up on us now. Is that everything?”

Nodding, Harry closed his trunk and started dragging it towards the stairs, closely followed by Remus carrying Hedwig's cage.
The living room and front of the house were still buzzing with activity, but Tonks met them at the foot of the stairs and ushered them into the kitchen, shutting the door. Dumbledore and Aunt Petunia were waiting there, Dumbledore speaking quietly and Aunt Petunia looking slightly confused. She still had tears streaming down her face. Dumbledore glanced up when Harry and Remus entered.

“Put everything down right there,” he said, pointing at the ground where several large suitcases were already piled. “Good. Minuo.” There was a flash of violet light, and Harry blinked and looked down at the luggage again. Each suitcase was small enough to fit in the palm of his hand. Next to them, in a miniature cage, the now-tiny Hedwig sat hooting in a very high-pitched voice. Aunt Petunia gave a small gasp of surprise.

“It's quite all right, Mrs. Dursley. Your luggage will be returned to its previous size as soon as we arrive at our destination.”

“How are we getting there?” Harry asked, trying in vain to picture Aunt Petunia traveling by broomstick. “The Knight Bus?”

“No, that's far too risky. Tonks, Remus and I will be Apparating, and we'll carry the luggage, but you and Mrs. Dursley will have to take this portkey.” Dumbledore handed him a throw pillow, and Harry took it.

“Here, Aunt Petunia,” he said gently, holding it out to her. “Just touch it, you'll be fine.”

“Remember to think about what I've told you,” Dumbledore continued as Aunt Petunia took hold of the pillow. “Ready… three… two… one-” His voice was suddenly cut off as Harry felt the familiar tug around his navel and the portkey whisked them off to Grimmauld Place.

Chapter 4: Arrivals and Surprises

Once the room had stopped spinning, Harry looked down to find his aunt sprawled on the ground. He bent down to help her up.

“Here, Aunt Petunia. Traveling by Portkey takes some getting used to, I know. I would have Apparated along with the rest, only there were so many aurors, and Rita Skeeter buzzing around, and I can’t risk being seen at it. See, I’m not actually old enough to Apparate legally yet, but Mr. Weasley and Dumbledore decided it would be best if I learned as soon as possible, so I could get myself out of trouble more easily. Ron and Hermione have learned too.” Harry realized he was babbling and stopped.

“Thank you, Harry,” Aunt Petunia said shakily. She looked around, dazed. “Where did you say we were?”

“Oh, right. Sorry about that. This is Grimmauld Place, the headquarters for the Order.”

“For the what?”

“The Order of the Phoenix, Mrs. Dursley. A society of people with a common goal: the final and lasting defeat of Lord Voldemort.” Dumbledore had appeared right beside them. “You will learn all you need to know, in time. But before anything else is said, I believe there is a nice hot meal calling your name downstairs, and that you and Harry have not eaten anything for quite some time. Yes, Harry,” he continued, raising a hand to cut off Harry’s protest, “I realize that you are eager to be reunited with your friends, but I for one do not relish the idea of explaining to Molly why I let you skip dinner. Off you go, now.”

Harry smiled weakly as he began leading the way down to the kitchen. While he did want to see Ron and Hermione, he knew full well that Dumbledore was right and Mrs. Weasley would never forgive either of them if he didn’t eat something.

Just outside the kitchen door he was greeted by one of Mrs. Weasley’s bone-crushing hugs.

“Oh, Harry! Thank goodness you’re all right! We were all so worried—“

“I’m fine, Mrs. Weasley. Really, I’m fine,” Harry managed, trying to pry himself away.

“We’ve already eaten, but I made you some dinner. It’s just about ready. Come in!” She disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Harry standing bemused in the hallway. He was about to follow, when a blur of brown hair came flying down the hallway and careened into him, nearly knocking him off his feet.

“Harry!” Hermione shrieked. “You’re safe! You could have been killed!

Are you hurt? Don’t scare me like that!”

“Er, sorry,” Harry grinned in spite of himself. “There wasn’t much I could do about it, you know.”

“It must have been horrible,” Hermione continued without loosening her grip on him. “I would have been scared to death.”

“I wasn’t there when the attack happened. I was in London with Aunt Petunia.”

Hermione turned and seemed to notice Aunt Petunia for the first time. For a moment they stared at each other uncertainly. Then Harry decided to intervene.

“Aunt Petunia, this is my friend Hermione. Her parents are Muggles too, so she understands what it’s like to suddenly find yourself in a different world.” He hoped Hermione would realize that he wanted them to be friends; all she knew about Aunt Petunia was what Harry had complained about in previous years.

Hermione did seem to understand; at any rate, she smiled and extended a hand to Aunt Petunia. “Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Dursley. Harry’s told me all about—I mean—“

“I think I have an idea of what Harry’s told you,” Aunt Petunia replied with a wavering smile. “I wish I could say he was wrong.”

Hermione looked at her awkwardly, clearly unsure of how to respond. She was saved by Mrs. Weasley, who suddenly reappeared and began ushering both Aunt Petunia and Harry into the kitchen.

“Now, dears, you just sit down and make yourselves comfortable. I’ve made you some hot soup, so I don’t want to hear any more discussion until you’ve both finished. And that goes for you too, Ron,” she added, addressing the doorway behind Harry.

“Aw, Mum-“

“I mean it. Let the poor boy eat in peace.”

“Hi, Ron,” Harry said, grinning at his friend. “Good to see you.”

“Good to see you too, mate,” Ron replied, leaning against the door frame. “Aren’t you going to tell us-“

“That’s it!” Mrs. Weasley marched towards Ron, brandishing a wooden spoon. “Out of the kitchen. Out!” Ron beat a hasty retreat.

Harry started gratefully on the soup. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was; it seemed like no time at all before he was staring regretfully at an empty bowl. Aunt Petunia must have been watching him, because almost as soon as he’d finished she pushed her own bowl towards him. It was still full.

“Aren’t you hungry, Aunt Petunia?” he asked, concerned. Aunt Petunia shook her head, and Harry felt a wave of guilt wash over him. Here he was, thinking about food when only hours ago his uncle and cousin had been senselessly murdered – Was this where he was headed? Would he look at Voldemort’s next victim and see just another body, with no more significance than that of a squirrel hit by a moving car? Wasn’t that how Voldemort himself viewed the Muggles he killed? A sudden feeling of nausea made Harry push the soup away. Muttering some words of thanks, he got up from the table, anxious to be alone.

Harry went through the dim hallways on tiptoe, uncertain of whether there was still anything on the walls that would start screaming if disturbed. The portrait of Sirius’s mother had finally been removed, with the help of Dobby and his house-elf brand of magic, but who knew what surprises the house still held for unwary occupants?

As he approached the room where he had slept on his previous visits to Grimmauld Place, Harry gradually became aware that there was some commotion going on farther down the corridor. He could hear raised voices, and by the time he had reached the door he could recognize Ron’s shouts.

“GIVE ME A BREAK! JUST SHUT UP AND STOP PRETENDING THAT—“

“Ron, I’m not pretending anything—“

“OH, REALLY? YOU MEAN TO TELL ME YOU HAVEN’T SPENT ALL SUMMER THINKING ABOUT HIM—“

“Of course I was thinking about him! I was worried, we both were—“

“THAT’S NOT WHAT I MEAN, AND YOU KNOW IT!”

Harry had a distinct feeling that he was the last person meant to overhear this quarrel, but he found that he couldn’t break himself away.

“WHY DON’T YOU JUST SAY WHAT YOU MEAN, THEN?” Hermione was shouting as well, now.

“OH, YOU’RE ONE TO TALK ABOUT THAT! ALL THIS TIME YOU’VE BEEN TELLING ME YOU LOVED ME—“

“I DID LOVE YOU, RON!”

“Did?” Ron was suddenly very quiet. “I see.”

“Ron, I—“

“No, you’ve said enough. Now get out of here. Get out of my sight.”

The door flew open and Hermione rushed out of it, colliding with Harry. She stepped back, gave him a horrified look, and disappeared down the hallway. Harry was left face to face with Ron.

“You. You heard everything?” Ron’s face was calm, but his voice sounded strained. Harry nodded without meeting his friend’s eyes. “I didn’t mean to, though,” he added hastily. Ron gave a jerk of his head that might have been a nod.

“Fine. I understand. Completely. None of this is your fault. Just let me alone.”

Harry hesitated, stung by the obvious sarcasm. “I didn’t mean any harm—“

“Course you didn’t! You never mean any harm, do you? Things just happen, and there’s nothing to be done about it. Why are you still standing here? Go find Hermione. That’s what you both want, isn’t it?”

Just a note from your Authors

Yeah, yeah, I know. I hate these too but I felt one was necessary; especially after we forgot to add one with the last chapter.

Eowyn and I are truly sorry for the long waits that you all must face in between chapters and we are both extremely grateful for you understanding and patience. We thought though, that it was due time to give you an explanation as to why you have to wait the wait that you do. Frankly that is because of one simple reason, time, that little four letter booger that nobody has ever seemed to get enough of. We both get very busy with school and work and well, life in general.

While we can’t promise anything, we do have part of chapter 5 completed. Just remember that your faithful author’s would never abandon you and we are working hard to get a chapter out to you and remain sane while we balance everything else going on. Hang in there we promise that we will get something to you as soon as we can!!!

Just keep in mind that your reviews and comments are what encourage us to push through to the next chapter. Please let us know how you think we are doing on the story and give us any feedback that you feel will help up out! If you have thought about our story please just write it down and reply to us!

As one last thought we would also like to mention that we try to support our fellow author’s here at Portkey, so if you have a story posted that you would like for us to take look at just mention it on your review and we will try to get around to at least glancing it over for you.

Again, thanks for your patience and sorry for the eternal wait that you put up with!

Your dedicated but overworked authors,

Isabella Gables & Eowyn Edoras

Authors’ Notes: Okay guys, Eowyn and I are truly sorry for the extended delay! The fact that you are still reading this touches our hearts! We appreciate every single one of you! Now off you go to enjoy another chapter in this ever going saga. And as always, please remember to REVIEW!! Your words and thoughts on our hard work are what keep us going. Now Enjoy!

Chapter 5: Talks of Prophecies

Harry stood in the hallway, staring blankly at the door that had just been slammed in his face. He considered calling after Ron, but he couldn’t think of anything else to say. After a moment, he went in search of Hermione.

She wasn’t in her room. After a moment’s hesitation, Harry remembered the library at the far end of the corridor. It had still been full of cobwebs and unpleasant spells the last time he had seen it, but perhaps Dobby had finished cleaning it out since last Christmas. It would be like Hermione to take refuge in a library, even if she had nothing to study.

Harry headed towards the back of the house, still automatically tiptoeing through the corridor that had once been decorated with house-elf heads, even though it had been a long time since anything there had begun screaming at his approach. This may have been why he heard the barely audible sound of weeping through one of the doors on his left.

When he opened the door quietly, another wave of guilt immediately assailed him. Once again, he had forgotten about Aunt Petunia. He stood motionless for a moment, torn between comforting his aunt and continuing his search for Hermione, who--to judge by the look he had seen on her face--was also crying quietly somewhere. But he, Harry, was responsible for Aunt Petunia being here, and he was the only one she had left now. He went in and sat down next to her on the bed.

“It’ll be all right, Aunt Petunia.” What else could he say? He put a hand on her shoulder.

“I’m all alone, Harry. There’s no one left now. Vernon—my Duddy—“ she broke down into sobs again.

“I know,” Harry said soothingly. “I understand. You’re not alone, Aunt Petunia. You have me, and the rest of the Order. We’ve all seen what Voldemort can do to families, and we’re going to stop him. We can’t bring anyone back, but we can stop him.”

“How—how can you p-possibly understand? You were too young to remember your—your parents.”

Harry glanced downwards as the memories came flooding back. When he spoke, he still had to struggle to keep his voice steady.

“You’re wrong about that. I hear them die whenever I face a dementor. And I see Cedric. He was only a student, and Voldemort killed him for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. And Sirius—“ his voice cracked; he stopped and took a deep breath. “Sirius was like a father to me. He was killed trying to save me from Death Eaters. And then last year dementors attacked Hogsmeade-- that’s the village next to Hogwarts, but they were all innocent victims—“

Aunt Petunia sniffed and looked at Harry with new respect. “I had no idea. How do you do it, Harry? Go on like nothing’s wrong….”

“Is that what you think? That I go on like it never happened? No, Aunt Petunia, just going on at all is hard enough. But you manage. You think about them a bit, and cry a bit, and then you go do what you have to, because people are depending on you.” Harry wondered whether that had been the wrong thing to say. It was true enough for him, but Aunt Petunia had just lost the people that depended on her most. However, she seemed heartened by his words. She sat up straighter, wiped her eyes, and glanced around the small bedroom.

“Look at this place,” she said briskly. “I’ve gone and left my suitcase half unpacked with clothes everywhere. Disgraceful, really. It’s not that difficult to keep a room tidy….” She stood up and began organizing her belonging quite vigorously. Harry gave a small smile and left her to it.

* * * * * *

Harry awoke the next morning with a groan. Sleep that night had been elusive, punctuated with nightmares in which Bellatrix Lestrange featured largely. He smothered his face in the pillow in an effort to block out the blinding sunlight in his eyes and get back to sleep again. It was a futile effort. He finally sat up, and his gaze fell on the bed next to his, where Ron was still snoring loudly.

Harry turned away again, the harsh, jealous words of his quarrel with Ron echoing in his head. He tried to tell himself that it wasn’t his fault. He hadn’t meant for Ron and Hermione to break up, far from it. Hadn’t he done his best to stay out of their way all of last year? Ron and Hermione were his best friends; of course he didn’t want them to fight. Why did he feel relieved, then?

“Harry?” Ron’s voice called tentatively.

Harry looked at him, cautiously. “What?”

“Harry—I’m sorry about last night, OK? I didn’t mean any of it.”

Harry nodded slowly, not entirely convinced. Ron kept talking, as if he needed to justify himself.

“I know you couldn’t help overhearing. You were just the first person I saw, and so I took it out on you. You just caught me at a bad time, that’s all. I said a lot of things I didn’t mean. Both of us did.”

“Have you apologized to Hermione?” asked Harry.

Ron looked startled, and angry. “I should have known you’d take her side!” he spat. “You and Hermione—both of you—no,” he amended. “I’ll stay out of it. Just go away.”

“Ron, are you all right?”

“I want to be alone. Go away.”

Harry wandered down towards the kitchen, thinking vaguely that most of the house must already be awake. He found Mrs. Weasley pouring coffee for Aunt Petunia, while Remus read the morning’s Daily Prophet and Hermione looked over his shoulder. Both wore concerned expressions on their faces.

“Hello, Harry,” Aunt Petunia said in a rather strained voice. Remus and Hermione looked up at once, and Remus hastily folded the newspaper and laid it on the table.

“Good morning, Harry! Did you sleep well?” he asked, a little too cheerfully. When Harry walked over to the table, Remus rested his arm across the paper, effectively obscuring the headline.

“Stop trying to hide things from me, Remus,” Harry said in a warning tone. “Let me see the paper.”

“There’s nothing in there that you don’t already know—“

“Let me see it.”

“There’s really no need—“

Harry jerked the paper out from under Remus’s hand and opened it to the front page.

He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named Strikes Again!

There has been yet another attempt on the life of the Boy Who Lived, writes Rita Skeeter, Daily Prophet reporter. Just yesterday, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and an unidentified number of Death Eaters descended on Number Four, Privet Drive, the Muggle house where, until now, Harry Potter has spent his summers.

It is a well-known fact that, following the miraculous defeat of You-Know-Who over sixteen years ago, Harry Potter was sent to live with his Muggle aunt and uncle. Albus Dumbledore, whose idea it was, seemed confident that Harry’s relatives would somehow be able to guard him, despite the deplorable lack of protection about the Muggle neighborhood.

Unfortunately, whatever precautions Dumbledore might have taken failed utterly late yesterday afternoon. Harry Potter, who was not at home, survived once again, but Muggles Vernon Dursley and Dudley Dursley, Harry’s uncle and cousin, were brutally murdered with Unforgivable Curses. The alarm was raised when a passing Squib, Arabella Figg, chanced to see the Dark Mark floating in the sky over Number Four, Privet Drive. Ministry officials, arriving at the scene too late, found the following message written on the wall of the living room:

Your time is up, Harry Potter.

“Either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives…”

Cryptic though this message may seem, the Daily Prophet has confirmed that it in fact refers to a prophecy made years ago, concerning the eventual fates of both Harry Potter and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. It was believed that this prophecy was lost without ever having been heard, but recent events suggest that this secret is not as safe as some may have thought it. The Department of Mysteries, which is supposed to keep track of all prophecies, claims to have no knowledge of this regrettable breach in security, calling it “very odd.”

Although he refused to speak to reporters, young Harry Potter seemed deeply shocked by yesterday’s events. “They were innocent,” he kept repeating, “They didn’t deserve this.” Harry then appears to have expressed his feelings by causing a television (a large, square, Muggle invention) to explode. This action has since been the cause of much concern and speculation, as it occurred without the use of a wand, incantation, or in fact visible magic of any kind. The Boy Who Lived is still full of surprises, it appears. But rest assured, this Daily Prophet reporter is on the case!

“Can you believe this woman?” Harry exclaimed, throwing down the newspaper. “She all but accuses Dumbledore of putting me in danger, and then to say she’ll be on the case—“He stopped short, suddenly noticing the look on Hermione’s face, not exasperated but anxious. “What is it now?”

Hermione pointed to the line of the prophecy. “Neither can live while the other survives. . . . Harry, what does that mean?”