Harry Potter and the Illusion of Doom

Harry Potter and the Illusion of Doom

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, I just enjoy thinking about what could happen next to Harry, and writing about it.

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Chapter One: Escape from Privet Drive

It seemed every summer the little town of Surrey ever saw was always profoundly hot. The sun beat upon the little town so unsparingly that the grass dried out quicker than the muggles could water it. The trees take the water away from the grass and even then the trees become too dry. One residence, however, stood out from the others. Number 4 of Privet Drive was known to have a impeccable yard which could compare easily with its perfect looking interior. In Harry Potter's opinion, they wasted too much time worrying about their bloody house.

Harry Potter was laying face up on his bed as the sweltering June air settled around him like an irremovable blanket. The only relief from the heat was a pathetic little fan that hardly blew warm air, let alone cool air onto his body. He lay on his bed in only his boxer shorts, but even with the lack of clothing, his body was still saturated with a thick sheath of perspiration that continued to collect on his skin. Harry felt groggy and dirty, but wasn't shocked since he hadn't really moved from that spot since the end of his last term at Hogwarts School of Magic.

Harry wasn't too worried about it though, just like he wasn't too worried about much anymore. He looked over at the stack of books that sat on top of his trunk and were sure to be collecting dust by now. Harry could see Hermione's face in his mind, and could see her scolding him for not starting his homework. Thinking of Hermione made Harry think about Ron, and all the other friends Harry had back at Hogwarts and it brought a little happiness to him. Just reminiscing about all the good things that happened at Hogwarts made a smile break through the expressionless face that had plagued him since the day he stepped foot back in the Dursley's annoyingly perfect house.

This summer, for Harry, had been very depressing and quite unproductive. The Dursleys, who usually ordered Harry around like a servant, had left him alone to mope about in his room, pretending that he wasn't even there. Harry didn't mind though. He didn't even bother to listen to the news anymore and the Daily Prophet, for each day he had been here, lay untouched in a messy stack in the corner of his room. Mrs. Figgs came once in a while to check up on Harry, and ask him politely to tea. Each time Harry said no, because he had too much homework, or that he was very tired. Each time he declined he felt a little bad because Mrs. Figgs would always leave with a downcast look as if she had failed somebody, but he quickly learned to not care anymore. No one in the world knew the pains and horrors Harry Potter had to endure. There wasn't a single wizard or muggle who knew the pressure and pain he was under. Harry was all alone, but not very cheerful. It felt almost as though a dementor continually loomed about his room; never to leave him alone. Harry felt as though he could never go back to the moment he found out he was a wizard and found out that he got to leave the Dursleys, before he knew there was a lunatic out to kill him. Those were the days when he found out that magic was real, and there was so much happiness in the magical world. He soon learned that to have so much happiness, there must be an equal amount of evil. Knowing that he either had to be killed, or be a killer, left a bitter feeling in Harry. When the day came where only he or Voldemort would be standing, Harry knew that he would kill Voldemort, but there was always that nagging voice in the back of his mind that told him, it's not that easy. The information Dumbledore unloaded onto Harry at the end of his 5th term both frightened him, and made him furious. Why him? Why did he have to be the bloody wizard whose parents died trying to save him? Why was he the one that had to see Cedric Diggory's dead eyes gaze at him after Voldemort ordered Cedric to be killed? Why was he the reason why Sirius was no longer here?

Harry kicked the wall, making a slight dent in it but he didn't care. He hated the Dursleys and their stupid house. Any normal person's family would welcome their nephew into their house after their sister died. Not the Dursleys. They found it pleasurable to make Harry's life miserable, even if it killed them. Harry knew there were others who cared about him, but he didn't even make an effort to open up Ron and Hermione's letters. He didn't want to hear how much fun Hermione was having vacationing in Greece, or how much money Ron was making as he worked with Fred and George in Diagon Alley at the Weasley`s Wizarding Wheezes. Harry just wanted to crawl into a ball and throw his invisibility cloak around himself and hide from the world. He didn't care anymore.

Suddenly a loud rapping shook his door and he jumped, catching himself before he fell off the bed.

“Get out here boy,” came Uncle Vernon's loud voice. “You've got a phone call, but make it quick because they're calling all the way from Westchester so that's long distance.”

“You don't say,” Harry replied sarcastically, throwing an oversized worn shirt over his head and walked to the door, leaving his room for the first time to do something other than shower or take a trip to the loo. Harry wondered the entire trip downstairs who could possibly be calling him all the way from Westchester, and then he figured it out and almost dreading to talk to her, knowing she would nag him for not eating anything all summer.

“Hermione?” Harry said into the receiver.

“I suppose you would suspect it was her since I'm calling from her house,” Ron replied a bit annoyed.

“Oh, hi Ron,” Harry said lazily.

“Hello yourself. I'm glad to hear you're alive, seeing as you haven't returned any of our owls since the end of last term. You should see Hermione, she's practically pulling out her hair she's so worried about you. if you don't send us a letter soon, she might not have any hair the next time you see her,” Ron joked.

“Shut up Ronald!” Harry could hear Hermione say in the background which made him a bit upset. They did this to him last year as well, and he felt really left out. Harry could almost feel the steam coming from his ears.

“Oh, so you and Hermione are hanging out again together without me then?” Harry asked Ron sarcastically.

“No! Well...yes, but that's why I phoned you, Harry. Dumbledore, and Hermione's parents of course, said it was okay for the both of us to spend the rest of the summer at Hermione's house. You just have to ask the muggles if it's all right with them.” Harry's spirits suddenly rose a bit. Getting away from the Dursley's would be a great start to get him out of this depression.

“All right, hang on,” Harry said and covered the receiver with no intentions of actually asking the Dursley's. They knew that going somewhere with a friend would make Harry happy and he knew that they wouldn't want to be the source of his happiness.

“Aunt Petunia,” Harry shouted. Harry's bony aunt walked into the kitchen with a sour look on her emaciated face. She was clearly annoyed that he had disrupted her snooping into the next-door neighbour's affairs since she had been trying to get her nose between the cracks of their fence the other night when she thought she heard yelling coming from the Winston's house.

“What do you want?” she asked. Harry put on a phoney smile to try and persuade her that he was serious about this.

“Would you like me to trim your hedges with this new device my friend could send me? He's on the telephone right now and wants to know if you wanted him to order you one?” Harry could almost swear that his aunt was actually contemplating whether to say yes to this offer or not. After all, she and his uncle Vernon were quite fond of their shrubbery.

“It's not...from one of those awful stores, is it?” she asked, suddenly lowering her voice so no one who might just be peaking their heads in the windows might hear. Of course, in Aunt Petunia's mind, the neighbours just so happened to have nothing better to do than sit in their front yard all day and wonder, What might Petunia Dursley be talking about right this moment. Harry just laughed at the thought.

“Oh, yeah,” he said dumbly. “It's this new wizarding shop for all sorts of shrubbery and magical plants. I could make your bushes look like garden gnomes if you like,” Harry said with a smile, even though he already knew what her reaction would be.

“Absolutely not!” she shrieked. “There will be no...you know whating,” she said in a whisper for all those neighbours who might be hanging in the windows, “in this house! No...magic.” she said as though magic was a filthy word and marched out of the room in a fit. Harry laughed and turned back to the phone.

“I can come,” Harry said into the receiver.

“Brilliant!” Ron shouted a little too loudly over the receiver. “Kingsley Shacklebot and Tonks will pick you up in a car —Ow! Hermione, I'm not done talking to Harry!” Ron whined and Harry could hear the phone being passed over.

“Harry?” Hermione tried to say, but it came out more as a squeak.

“Hi, Hermione,” Harry replied a bit relieved to hear her voice.

“Oh, Harry! We've been worried sick! Mrs. Figgs told Dumbledore that you've stayed in that room all summer!” She scolded him and Harry could almost see that her face was pinched much like Professor McGonagall's, but a bit softer since she could never truly get horribly mad at him. “What have you been doing?”

“I dunno,” Harry replied half-heartedly. “Sleeping, eating, staying alive.”

“It's not funny! I can't believe you, Harry,” she said sternly. “I suppose coming to my house ought to do you a bit of good. I hope you've been eating.” Harry just laughed at how predictable she was, yet he appreciated her concern.

“Hermione, you're starting to sound like Mrs. Weasley,” Harry said with a chuckle and he could hear her sigh over the phone.

“I'm just worried about you is all,' she said a bit less sternly.

“I'll be all right,” he said to reassure her. “I'll see you both later.

“All right. Bye Harry,” Hermione said before Harry hung up the phone. The moment Harry put the receiver down, the phone rang again. He looked around at the sterile kitchen and toward the vacant doorways before he picked it up again.

“Dursley residence,” Harry said with a bit of a chuckle since it made him sound like the servant they treated him like.

“Hi,” came a female voice. “Is Dudley there?” The girl asked Harry. Harry's lips formed into a smile as he came up with a plan.

“Yes, he is. Oh, are you his girlfriend or something?” Harry asked the girl.

“Actually, no. We're just good friends,” the girl replied.

“Ohhhh, yeah,” Harry said as the menacing smile on his face grew even wider. “Yeah. Dudykins has told me all about you.”

“Excuse me,” the girl asked a bit suspiciously, “Dudykins?”

“Oh yeah, that's what his mum calls him. She's got loads of nicknames for him. There's Ickle Dudykins, Mommy's little angel pig, and—” but Harry couldn't finish because two large hands were closed around his neck and strangling life out of him. Harry dropped the phone and pried at Dudley's fingers which seemed to be growing tighter and tighter around his neck.

`Don't you dare talk to my friends!” Dudley shouted as he continued to strangle Harry but eventually let his grip loosen so Harry could breathe. “What else did you tell her?” he demanded.

“Well I forgot to tell her how your mum still reads you bedtime stories and how you have to sleep in their room when the thunderstorms make you wet your b—” but Harry couldn't finish because Dudley's hands found their way back to Harry's neck and continued strangling him.

“Dudley? Dudley?” The girl on the phone said and Dudley let go of Harry, and picked the phone up quickly, trying to regain some composure. That was pretty hard since his face had turned bright shades of purple, reminding Harry of Uncle Vernon.

“Hello? Marina? Oh...no that was my cousin. His brain had to be repaired after a car accident. Yeah, brain transplant...what? Yeah that can happen...” Harry just laughed as Dudley tried to gain his pride back by using his pea-sized brain to make matters worse. Harry chuckled and ran upstairs to his room and began to toss everything he owned into his trunk. Hedwig began to shuffle her feathers frantically in her cage.

“That's right, Hedwig. We're going to see Ron and Hermione.” Harry said to his bird as he continued to haphazardly throw his things into the trunk and then shut it once everything had been packed. Harry had plans, but he had to wait until it was dark for his plan to work.

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As soon as Harry could hear the obnoxious snoring coming from his Uncle Vernon, Harry grabbed his trunk, Hedwig's cage and his firebolt and headed out of his room. The silence around him was occasionally broken by Uncle Vernon's grating snores and the sound of the wheels on Harry's trunk as he wheeled it down the corridor and down each step carefully as not to make much noise. Once his trunk was down the stairs and he was sure none of the Dursley's had woken up, he returned to the top of the stairs to retrieve Hedwig and his firebolt.

Harry walked out the door and shut it behind him, hearing the lock click into place. He nearly ruined his great escape by laughing a bit too loud. Any noise, however, was carried by the wind away from Privet Drive. Harry knew exactly what he needed to do now to get out of Surrey.

“Lumos,” Harry spoke silently and a small light emitted from his wand. He held his wand high above his head and suddenly Harry could hear a loud rumbling coming from down the street. Just as he expected, a large purple triple-decker bus was hurtling toward him at top speed. The knight bus was going to take him to Hermione's house.

The bus made a screeching halt before Harry and he grew impatient as Stan slowly meandered off the oversized bus.

“Well, if it isn't Harry—” but Harry wasn't in the mood for a reunion with him. He had to get to Hermione's house before Kingsley and Tonks set out to get him.

“Hi again,” Harry said in a rush. “I have to get to Number 3, Bavaria Lane, Hermione Granger's house.” Harry said as he pushed past Stan and ran up the steps of the Knight bus.

Stan scoffed and walked relentlessly to get Harry's trunk, and loaded it onto the bus. The Knight bus started up again and zoomed off to Hermione's house at breakneck speed.

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So tell me what you think. Was it in character, can you see something like this happening. JKR did say that Harry would spend his shortest time at the Dursley's during book 6, so I tried to make that happen, and this is how I see it happening. I'm sure she will come up with something much more brilliant than me since she is such a wonderful writer, but I hope this can somewhat live up to her writing.

Harry Potter and the Illusion of Doom

By Harrynhermione4eva

Short Author's Note: I'm not dead, I've just been busy. Thanks for being patient.:D

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Chapter 2: The Granger Residence

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This time around Harry was a bit more prepared for the bumpy ride. The bus threw the passengers around and Harry occasionally flew into a window, but he didn't really care all that much. As long as it got him to Hermione's house, Harry was willing to risk a few bruises.

Suddenly the bus stopped, and Harry thought that perhaps they were at the wrong house. The houses that surrounded the bus were large, elegant Victorian-style homes with majestical trees in front that seemed to be reaching toward the starless sky. These houses were much too large to belong to Hermione's parents. Surely dentists weren't this wealthy.

“Number 3, Bavaria Lane, The Granger Residence,” Stan said in a dull manner. It was clear by the look Stan was giving Harry's trunk, he was dreading having to lug it off the bus.

“Are you sure we're at the right place?” Harry asked and was almost thrown backward by the force of Stan's laugh. He was laughing so hard Harry was afraid one of his pimples might burst.

“Did ya hear that `Ern?” Stan roared behind his shoulder. “`arry Potter wants to know whether we gots the right place.” Ernie, the old bus driver laughed as well, and Stan turned back to Harry, wiping tears from his eyes. “The Knight Bus is never wrong,” he said and grabbed Harry's trunk and lugged if off the bus and onto the curb. Harry grabbed Hedwig and his firebolt and ran down the steps. He looked back at Stan who had re-boarded the bus and was smiling at him wryly.

“You have a good one now,” Stan said before the Knight bus took off at break-neck speed into the night. Harry sighed and picked up his trunk—which had been placed carelessly on the curb—and rolled it toward the house. He had to open the metal gate to get to the sidewalk, which was surrounded by shrubbery that seemed as though it would swallow him whole at this time of night. His footsteps and the sound of his trunk rolling along the cement echoed into the silence as he came upon the door, which was every much as elegant as the house itself.

Harry hesitated for a moment, wondering if he should really just knock on the door and wake everyone up, or if he should sleep on their porch for the night and bother them in the morning. The former sounded more appealing to him as the wind picked up and rustled through the trees, making them dance in an almost threatening way. Harry propped his trunk up against one of the pillars holding up the porch and placed his broom and Hedwig on the ground as he sat himself down on the steps, contemplating what he should do at this point. He hadn't really thought through the idea of what he would do when he reached Hermione's house. He didn't really expect himself to just waltz right in and have everyone be so happy to see him—although it would be nice. Hermione would probably scold him for not waiting for Kingsley and Tonks to pick him up. Her parents probably wouldn't be too thrilled either to have him waltzing into their home in the middle of the night.

Harry was thrown out of his thoughts when all of a sudden the door behind him was thrown open, and someone hidden in the shadow of the doorway had their wand pointed directly at him. On instinct, Harry stood quickly and pulled his own wand out of his jeans and stood mirroring the person who threatened him.

“Bloody hell,” the figure said as it lowered its wand, and Tonks stepped into the moonlight. Harry had never been happier to see her. “What are you doing here, Harry?”

“I-I took the Knight Bus,” he stammered as Tonks pocketed her wand and waved at him to put his own away.

“Put that thing away before you turn me into an imp,” she said a bit more sternly than Harry remembered her to be. “Why didn't you wait for us to pick you up, Harry? You could have gotten in terrible trouble.”

Harry just shrugged. “I couldn't wait to get out of there. My aunt and uncle would have never let me come if I hadn't escaped—I know I told Ron that they said yes,” Harry interjected when a look of surprise overtook Tonks's face, “but they would have said no. You don't know what it's like to be there, all alone.”

Tonks could sense a bit of sadness under the bitterness of his words. He was right; no one knew how hard his life was. “Come on, then,” she said as she placed an arm around his shoulder and lead him inside as his trunk floated behind them, followed by his Firebolt and Hedwig's cage.

It was dark inside Hermione's house, and it frightened him a little. He could barely see, but the moonlight cast a glow on the furniture in what had to be the parlour. From what he could see, the room was furnished with luxurious plush furniture that complimented the opulence of the house. The shadows of the trees from outside made the room look as if he had stepped into an old horror movie and Harry hoped it looked better in daylight. This wasn't how he expected Hermione's house to be.

Footsteps echoing along the walls of the hall startled him from his thoughts, but then he heard a clunking noise, which was all too familiar to Harry. He knew almost straight away who that had to be. Harry heard someone mutter a few words and the tip of their wand ignited, shrouding the faces of a few members of the Order of the Phoenix in a dull glow.

“Harry!” Lupin shouted a bit too loudly and Harry reckoned by the shushes he was getting that Ron and the Grangers were still asleep. “What are you doing here?” he asked a bit quieter.

“Harry here took the Knight bus all the was from Surrey,” Tonks said with a bit of amusement in her voice. Harry heard an intake of breath from the crowd and could hear Moody muttering, “Doesn't appreciate the safety of being picked up. Doesn't know the dark magic out to get him.” Harry just shrugged them off and picked up Hedwig's cage, moving away from the herd of people.

Harry ignored the whispering that he knew was about him. They have nothing to worry about, he thought. I got here fine, didn't I? I didn't even get myself nearly killed this time. He went to sit down on the steps when he heard a pair of footsteps coming from the top of the stairs.

Harry's unfeeling face broke into a resplendent smile. He had never been happier to see Ron and Hermione before in his life.

Before Harry could even stand up to say hi, Hermione had already rushed down the stairs and threw her arms around Harry's neck in a bone crushing hug.

“I can't believe you did that, Harry,” Hermione cried, “but I'm so glad you're safe.” Harry didn't know what to do so he sort of patted her on the back, reassuring her that he was all right. He wasn't sure why she was crying. He hadn't had any near death experiences or anything lately.

“I'm fine, Hermione, really, I am,” he said and she finally let go of him, letting him breathe a bit. Ron came up beside her and nodded a hello to Harry. Harry returned the salutation and turned back to the big mob of Order Members when he heard his name being called.

“Harry, don't you worry about your thing here,” Tonks said as she levitated his trunk, while knocking a vase off a nearby table. “Oops. Reparo,” she said and the vase flew back together and back onto the table. Harry turned to Hermione.

“How can your parents sleep through all this noise?” Hermione almost looked as though she was going to laugh.

“I think Tonks put a sleeping draught in their drinks at dinner so she could practice levitating objects while she was on guard tonight. I think it worked, though. They went to bed straight away after dinner.” Harry smiled at the thought.

“Come on, Harry,” Ron said, “You'll be staying in the guest room with me.” Harry turned his gaze back to the stairs and nodded as Ron ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time. Harry followed him, and Hermione behind him with Tonks bringing up the rear as she gracefully crashed Harry's trunk along the walls making so much noise that Harry wouldn't be surprised if the neighbours came to bang on the doors.

“Maybe I should do that, Tonks?” Lupin suggested as if reading Harry's mind.

Tonks rejected his help. “I need to learn how to be more graceful, Remus,” she said as Hedwig's cage hit a picture of a younger Hermione on the wall, making it fall on the stairs. The glass shattered and Hedwig let out a loud hoot.

“Yeah, and just the way to do that is to wake up the whole bloody neighbourhood,” Ron whispered to Harry, making him smile as he followed Ron down a long hallway into a large room that bore two beds on opposite ends. Hermione walked behind Harry and flipped the lights on, making it easier for Harry to see the rest of the room. There was a television on one side of the room, which clearly had to be Ron's side due to the mess. It looked like Buckbeak had gotten into Ron's trunk and tossed his clothes all around the room.

“I told him to clean it, of course,” Hermione said exasperatedly, “But Ron never listens. Ron snorted and threw daggers in her direction with the glare he was giving her.

“You're not my mother, Hermione,” he said as he nudged a stray book with his foot. “Besides, you've been onto me about keeping up with my summer work that I haven't had enough time to clean it.” Before Hermione could toss back an argument, a loud crash came from the hallway. Harry tried poking his head out the door, but his trunk came hurtling through, missing his head by inches.

“Oy! watch it Tonks!” Ron said irritably. “You nearly knocked his head halfway to London with his own trunk!”

“Sorry there, Harry. You all right?” Tonks asked and Harry nodded. All of a sudden, Ginny walked into the room carrying Hedwig's cage and Harry's firebolt. His eyes nearly dropped out of his head. She turned to him and nodded a hello. He gave her a weak hello in return, mostly out of shock. Ginny had grown a lot in a few weeks and it was clear that Mrs. Weasley had started allowing her to wear makeup. Harry averted his attention to his trunk so Ron wouldn't catch him looking at his little sister. Harry knew that Ron would deck any guy who looked at Ginny like that. ron didn't have to worry though.

Although Ginny looked gorgeous, Harry didn't see her as more than a friend. Harry wondered why Ginny possessed the need to wear makeup? Hermione still doesn't bother with makeup and looks beautiful.

Harry looked in Hermione's direction and saw that she was trying to pick Ron's books up and place them neatly by his bed as if it was dishonourable to leave them laying on the floor. Her lithe body moved easily as she almost looked like a chestnut-haired veela in an intoxicating dance just by doing a simple task like putting Ron's books away. Harry had to shake his head to clear it. One thing he knew for sure, she was still beautiful.

“Oy! Harry!” Ron called from inside the closet. “The right side's mine, left is yours.”

“All right,” Harry replied, but he wasn't even unpacking just yet. There was a picture on the wall—a woman sleeping in a lucious garden of overgrown vegetation, looking like it had come from Eden. If Harry wasn't mistaken, her chest was moving, and he could almost hear a faint breathing, almost as if the picture was...

“You're not hallucinating you know,” Hermione said suddenly behind Harry, making him jump from shock.

“What do you mean?”

“The picture, I saw you looking at it,” she said doubtlessly, moving in next to him to study the picture. “My parents found it in Diagon Alley and they loved it, so they bought it.”

“Your parents can see her move?” Harry asked bewildered. He was almost sure that muggles wouldn't be able to tell this painting from any other muggle painting.

“Of course not. They're not magical, Harry,” she said and went over to Hedwig's cage to let her out. Hedwig hooted softly and flew over to perch herself almost posessively on Harry's left arm.

“Hello girl,” Harry said as he walked toward the window. It was a clear night tonight so Harry wasn't worried about Hedwig being struck by lightning or something. She had seen much worse, particularly with that awful Umbridge woman last year.

Harry clutched the hand that will forever bear the scar, “I will not tell lies,” the message that had been maliciously etched into his hand in a detention from hell. “Well go on then,” said Harry a bit agitated at the memory. Hedwig looked at him with a bit of sadness in her big saucer-like eyes before she turned around and took off. Harry sighed. He hated Umbridge; she made his life a living hell. If he could have only checked well enough to see that Sirius was okay, he would still be here. Why did his life have to be so—

“Harry, have you seen these yet?” Hermione inquired as she walked into the room (Harry never noticed her leave), her arms overflowing with old newspapers. “This,” she said in a business-like tone while shoving a newspaper in his face, “is why it was so dangerous for you to come tonight without an escort.” Harry's heart sank the moment his eyes laid on the title.

DEATH EATERS ESCAPE FROM AZKABAN

It's no surprise to the wizarding world that recently arrested Death Eaters Lucius Malfoy and Antonin Dolohov among other Death Eaters have escaped from Azkaban prison. Since the Dementors left Azkaban last June, many other prisoners of less danger have escaped as well. (Turn to page 8 for full details and photographs of escaped convicts.) The Ministry suspects the Death Eaters have escaped to rejoin with their leader, You-know-who, and Bellatrix Lestrange, whom Ministry officials have confirmed to have escaped from the attack on the Ministry and the Boy-who-lived last June.

Harry Potter, who put the names of Death Eaters out in the public, has been absent from the media eye since the attack. Gossip has led to believe Potter has closed himself up in his muggle residence, as to stay out of public view. When asked to comment, Potter's two best friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, had no comment. Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Potter's school, was not available for a comment either.

“Why didn't you —”

“Keep reading, Harry.”

However, there were some fellow students of Harry that volunteered for comments. Among those were Neville Longbottom, Draco Malfoy, and Cho Chang.

“Harry's going through a hard time,” Longbottom, who accompanied Potter, along with others, to the Ministry in June, replied. “I think the media needs to let him breathe a bit before school starts up again. Last year may have been O.W.L.S., but next year will be tough.” Cho Chang had similar thoughts: “Harry's been through a lot, and needs a break. He deserves one.” Potter and Chang were rumoured to have had a relationship the previous year, but when asked about the relationship, Chang denied the rumour: “We kissed once or twice, but we were both confused; he had seen (he-who-must-not-be-named) kill Cedric Diggory, which was devastating for the both of us. Our relationship has been, and always will be on a platonic level.”

Harry scoffed when he read this. He didn't care much, but he found it rather pathetic that she couldn't even admit to having feelings for him beyond a platonic friendship.

“Cho's statement?” Hermione inquired and Harry nodded as he went back to reading.

However, Draco Malfoy had a much opposing view to Harry Potter's absence. “I think Potter's a coward, so he's hiding out. Even though I do my best not to follow my father's example of joining the Death Eaters, I'm positive that Potter knows my father will come after him and finish him off. Potter was only put in Gryffindor because that's where his parents were. Someone has told Potter that my father and his friends have escaped from Azkaban, so he's in hiding until we have to go back to school next year. He's probably hiding out for attention too because he knows papers like the Prophet will print stories about him not being around. It's typical.”

Whatever the truth, the fact remains that a second war has started up: the light side vs. the dark side. With Harry Potter being he-who-must-not-be-named's number one target, we can only hope and pray to Merlin that he will stay safe over the summer whilst staying in a home with no magic to protect him, while the wizarding world continues to search for he-who-must-not-be-named and his missing Death Eaters.

Harry felt as though the article should make him scared somehow...but it didn't. Death Eaters had escaped the year before from Azkaban and he was still here...

But Sirius is not. That thought alone made Harry's blood boil in such a strong loathing for Bellatrix Lestrange that his knuckles were turning white just gripping the newspaper. He could still hear that awful laugh of hers and see that retched smile that danced menacingly across her lips after she killed Sirius and the look on her face when he attempted the Crutateous curse on her. She escaped last time, Harry thought, but I swear, the next time I see her, I'll murder her. Harry narrowed his eyes. No, that's not right...I'll mutilate her. They won't even recognise her enough to put out a proper title in the Prophet: “Bellatrix Lestrange, Dead” when I'm through with her.

“Harry, you still with us mate?” Ron asked moving toward them from the closet.

“Oh...right, yeah, I'm here,” Hermione and Ron exchanged worried glances.

“Are you all right, Harry?” Hermione asked uneasily.

“I'm fine,” Harry lied. “It's a bit of a shock ,but nothing new, really. So I'm just...” Harry prattled on nonsensically, tossing the paper aside and grabbing a different one. “What else is new?” He asked with no real care. “Has Voldemort gone and killed anyone else I know yet? You know, maybe Neville, Cho...perhaps he's finally gotten to Dumbledore...”

“Harry, that's enough!” Hermione said sternly as she glared at him; Harry only glared back. She looked away and he could almost catch a glint falling from her eye.

“Look, Harry,” she started shakily, “Ron and I might not know exactly what you are going through, but we would like to understand how you're feeling so we can help you.” She looked back at him; her soft mocha-coloured eyes meeting his compelling emerald ones, telling him that she really wanted to be there for him. She will never know how I feel, Harry thought as he continued glaring at her with an expression of stone. They don't know what I have to go through.

“You will never understand how I feel...neither of you,” he said, turning his glare to Ron who was clearly frightened by the look on Harry's face. “You have no clue what it's like to grow up with people who hate you. Neither of you know how awful it is to see Voldemort kill somebody, and lucky me!” Harry laughed hollowly. “I've had the joy of seeing, or being near him when he murdered two people,” Harry said sarcastically as tears began pouring from his eyes.

“I saw Sirius fall though the bloody veil and I couldn't—” Harry choked on his words. “I couldn't save him; I practically killed him.”

“No, Harry it's—”

“Come off it, Ron!” he protested. “Don't tell me it's not my fault, because Dumbledore all ready told me that. He even blamed it on himself!” Harry turned his glare back to Hermione and saw that she was far from the verge of tears; they were all ready pouring down her face. He suddenly regretted making her cry, but he didn't feel bad enough to apologise just yet. If she'd seen the things I have, she'd be just like me: dry, no tears left to cry.

“There's too much pain for you to understand.”

“We realise that, Harry,” Hermione said with a quiver in her voice, “but if you let it off little by little, maybe—”

“Maybe we should all go to bed,” Harry suggested as he started pulling his invariably worn-out trainers off and discarded them unceremoniously over the side of the bed. “It is late, after all—do you mind, Hermione?” He said a bit rudely, flicking his wrist toward the door as he began tugging off the oversized shirt he was wearing. Hermione's face flushed and she muttered a barely audible good night as she left the room to go to her own. Harry looked over at Ron who was still staring at the space Hermione had just recently occupied and Harry knew exactly what he was thinking. How could he have been so insensitive to his two best friends in the world? Especially Hermione who was only trying to help him, and this was how he thanked her?

“I'll be right back,” Harry said as he ran after Hermione. He only hoped she hadn't made it all the way back to her room yet and he wasn't sure if he was more sad or relieved to hear her crying softly just inside the door to his left. He pushed the door open gently and poked his head in through the crack in the door. Hermione was sitting on the toilet seat, looking at her hands; she looked worse than before. He had hurt her; that was clear from the expression in her eyes

“Hermione, I—”

“Why, Harry?” she asked him in an empty voice he had never heard her use before. She turned to look at him and Harry only wished he could take it all back. His problems are his own; he shouldn't take it out on his best friends.

Her eyes started tearing up again. “Why won't you let us help?” she asked, almost pleading him to talk to her sensibly. He looked down, ashamed of himself. Why wouldn't he let them help? That was a good question...but that would include having to tell them about the burden he was still trying to comprehend from only a few weeks earlier: the prophecy

“It's hard to explain,” he said as he walked over to her and sat across from her on the edge of the antique-looking bath tub. “It's just, people keep asking me if I need help, but they don't understand what I've been through—wait,” he said and held his hand up to silence her before she said what he knew she would say. “I know you want to understand, but the truth is, I don't want you to understand.”

She looked even more confused now.

“But Harry, that doesn't make any—”

“Yes, it does,” He kneeled in front of her and held her shoulders firmly in his hands. “Those memories are painful, and scary, and I don't want you to feel this pain because it's the worst sort of pain possible: being famous just because someone didn't kill you but managed to kill your parents. Being made into a nutter by the daily prophet, being...being” being the only one who can destroy Voldemort he thought.

“Being what, Harry?” she asked, placing a comforting hand on his cheek. He hadn't noticed when his hands had stopped shaking her and fell down to her hips, but her hand felt rather nice on his cheek. He looked into her eyes and her gaze locked with his; her eyes imploring him, asking him, “what is it, Harry?” The look in her eyes, his fragile state of mind, it was all too much. He leaned forward into her embrace, pulling her close to him and let his head fall onto her shoulder as sobs racked his body. Hermione held him tightly to her like a mother would, combing his hair with her fingers; rocking him back and forth as she just let him cry. She knew this was what he needed.

“It's so hard, Hermione,” he sobbed into her shoulder. “I-I can't tell you.”

She rested her chin on top of his head. “Harry, you know you can tell me anything.”

“It's not that easy, Hermione,” he cried, hugging her tighter. “I can't tell you...not now at least.”

Hermione sighed and rubbed her hands up and down his back soothingly. “It's all right, Harry. You can tell me when you're ready.” She pulled back from their hug and looked deeply into his red, puffy eyes. “You know I'll be here, and so will Ron, if you need someone to talk to.” She wiped the remaining tears off his cheeks and did something she hadn't done in two years: she kissed his forehead where his scar rested although, this time, it left his body feeling sort of tingly where she had kissed him. He smiled at her and gave her another hug, truly grateful for her always being there for him.

“I'm sorry, you know, about earlier. I just—” he stopped at loss for words. “I just, lose my temper sometimes and I let little things get to me.” Hermione opened her mouth to say something, but Harry silenced her again. “No, Hermione, I really need to apologise, to you and Ron, for this and every other time I've taken my anger out on the two of you. I'm sorry.” This time he kissed her on the forehead and she smiled. That made him rather happy.

We'd better get to bed, then,” Hermione suggested as she stood up from the toilet seat and helped him to his feet. “We have a busy day tomorrow teaching Ron and Ginny how to be muggles.”

Harry was confused. “What do you mean?” he asked. Hermione just grinned impishly. “You'll see,” was all she said before she gave him a quick hug and a good night before she walked out of the room and to her own.

Harry walked back to the guest room, wondering if he did the right thing by not telling her about the prophecy. He still needed time for it to sink into himself first before he shared this news with Hermione or Ron.

Ron.

He needed to apologise to Ron. By the time Harry got back to their room, Ron was all ready tucked away and snoring in his bed. Harry walked over to him and considered waking him, but then decided it could wait until morning when he saw Ron's lips curve into a smile in his sleep. No doubt he's dreaming about some girl. Harry thought as he walked over to his own bed; the need to sleep weighing down every inch of him. He flopped down onto the plush comforter and didn't even bother pulling the sheets over his head. His arms were too tired to allow him to do that.

There was something crinkling beneath him and he mustered up all the energy he had and pulled the object from underneath him. It was one of the latest editions of the daily prophet. Harry read the title and smiled, letting the paper drop to the floor. Harry fell asleep with a peaceful look on his face and not a bad thought in his head. Tomorrow was going to be wonderful.

The Daily Prophet lay abandoned on the floor; the title facing upwards and reading: CORNELIUS FUDGE TO BE THROWN FROM OFFICE FOR IGNORING VOLDEMORT THREATS. Yes, life was starting to look up now.

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I'm soooooooo sorry that took so long, but I'm a busy person, and I tried the best I could to get this to you asap. Chapter three will be coming soon (hopefully soon:D); please review.

Harrynhermione4eva

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