(A/N: Alright Chapter two is up. So far, its looking like all the chapters are going to hang around the 9000-10000 mark, and I will be completing them about once a week. I can guarantee updates at least once every two weeks. Without further ado, here's chapter two.)
The rest of the day passed quickly. Aunt Petunia brought him a cold bowl of stew she had made earlier, but other than that the evening crawled by uneventfully; like a wounded snake. Uncle Vernon did not so much as come in again to harass Harry about Dr. Perry, and Dudley passed by Harry's room twice that night without bothering to open up his door and call him some obscene name. The latter was definitely a first.
When Harry woke up from his afternoon nap at around six o'clock, he suddenly remembered that Ron was coming to pick him up tomorrow. True, he did not know how or when, but he hoped that they would arrive before Dr. Perry and his instruments from Hell came to 'heal' his body with pain. Briefly, Harry wondered what he would do if Uncle Vernon prevented him from leaving.
Well then you'll fight, he thought.
Another voice, one that spoke in Hermione's voice asked: How? What if you get hurt? You can't use your wand! He could never answer the inquiries.
Harry was startled out of his thoughts by a faint tapping on his window. Surprised at receiving a letter so late at night, he walked over and pulled the window open. A small owl flew in and perched itself on the back of his wooden chair. Harry instantly recognized it as Ron's owl, Pig.
He took off the note attached on Pig's leg, fed the owl a bit of bread leftover from two days ago, and sat down on his bed. Pig had not moved, so Harry assumed that Ron wanted a response. Now a bit excited, Harry unfolded the message and read it.
Hey Harry,
Dad just got back tonight, so we'll be picking you up sometime tomorrow afternoon. Since the muggles are always strict with schedule, we'll be there about twelve o'clock noon. Dad borrowed a ministry car; so don't worry about using floo powder. Hermione arrived at the burrow earlier today, so she'll be with us when we come to pick you up.
If the Dursley's are giving you any trouble about leaving, write the situation down and send it back with Pig. Dad'll think of something. However, you WILL be coming with us, so don't worry mate, you'll be out of there in no time. Also, Hedwig arrived at the Burrow today and she'll stay with us until you arrive. (I guess you planned it that way since she refuses to leave)
I don't foresee any real problems since you just wrote to us a couple days ago, but Hermione insisted I check.
Ron
Harry nearly shouted out with glee. Although noon would be cutting it a bit close with his appointment with Dr. Perry, Harry did not care. By some stroke of luck, he can now warn Ron about the problem that will inevitably arise when the Weasley's come to pick him up.
Hastily, Harry turned the note over and wrote down the problem.
Ron,
I can't tell you how glad I am to hear from you. I sent Hedwig to the Burrow, and I could no longer contact anyone on the outside.
To make this short, I accidentally dented my cousin's trophy and my uncle is giving me hell to pay. He hired some nutcase muggle psychiatrist from St. Brutus's (A mental institution for juveniles) to see if I'm crazy. We had a brief meeting, and at the end he decided that I was indeed insane and that he will need some devices to inflict pain on me so I will not 'lie'. (Sound familiar?) He claims he's going to heal me. I'm telling you this guy is mental.
My appointment with him will be tomorrow at noon and he told me before he left that he will bring back some instruments from St. Brutus's. Get here before then. I don't want to find out what this guy has in store for me. I will pack my things tonight.
Harry
He quickly rolled up the note and attached it to the owl's leg. Pig flew up, and, after circling around his room several times, fluttered out the window and into the night sky; his wings gently silhouetted by the moonlight.
Now feeling greatly at ease, Harry laid back in bed and relaxed. After a time, he picked up his Quidditch Strategy Guide and read about the various plays the professional teams used. As he began to read a section about the plays used by the two opposing teams in the playoffs of 1874, Harry took off his glasses, leaned back, and eventually fell to sleep.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Harry woke up some twelve hours later, drenched in sweat and his scar burning. He brought his hand up to his forehead and rubbed it soothingly, trying to remember what he had dreamt about.
Suddenly, he remembered. He had dreamed of Sirius's death.
He dropped his head back into his pillow. Harry had not dreamed of Sirius for a month; why was he having a dream about him now? Was Voldemort playing with his mind and his emotions? Somehow he doubted it. For some reason he could not discern, it felt more like a premonition.
Confused, Harry shook his head. Of course it could not be a premonition. Sirius died months ago and Harry was no Seer. Regardless, he felt that Sirius's death was important to something in his future; more specifically, his immediate future. He knew no more than that, and knew better than to look any further. He learned long ago not to allow his dreams to affect his actions. There were too many disturbances in his mind and too much potential for trickery for him to take them seriously.
As the last of the drowsiness left his mind, he sat up and got dressed before heading down the steps for breakfast.
When he reached the kitchen and sat down, he found that all of the feigned friendliness from yesterday had disappeared. Uncle Vernon was scowling behind his newspaper, occasionally throwing dark glances in Harry's direction. Aunt Petunia was refusing to look at him. Dudley did not acknowledge his existence, but continued to cram his mouth full of food. That, however, was not out of the ordinary.
All of them, though, looked greatly disappointed that he did not suffer any physical injury from his meeting with Dr. Perry yesterday.
Harry helped himself to some pancakes and sausage, and, after pouring some syrup on his stack of pancakes, said, "Uncle Vernon?"
He grunted in response and turned the page of his newspaper. The only part of him Harry could see was his forehead.
"Some of my friends are going to pick me up today," Harry said casually, "They will be arriving at noon."
Harry saw his uncle's forehead turn dark red. Everyone around the table froze, waiting for the imminent explosion of anger. Uncle Vernon slowly lowered his newspaper on the table. Harry could see his entire face was now becoming an unusual shade of purple.
"THE RUDDY HELL YOU ARE!" He bellowed, causing Dudley to suddenly drop his fork and Aunt Petunia to spill her coffee.
"Well its been planned for-"
"THAT DOESN'T MATTER BOY," His Uncle roared. He was now standing up and bits of food were flying out from his bushy mustache. "YOU WILL STAY HERE AND RECEIVE YOUR INSTRUCTION FROM DR. PERRY."
He sat back down, positively fuming. He roughly lifted his newspaper back up to his face and continued reading. Dudley started eating again and Aunt Petunia resumed staring aimlessly out the window. Harry began eating his pancakes.
"Well you can tell Mr. Weasley that when he arrives..." Harry said quietly. He heard a sharp intake of breath from behind the newspaper.
"Mr. Weasley, eh?" Uncle Vernon asked conversationally, not quite able to mask the hint of fear in his voice, "Tall man? Red hair? Hangs around with the guy with one eye, a wooden leg and a bowler hat?"
"That's the one."
Presuming the exchange to be over, Harry left the table and ran back up the steps to his room. Though he could not be certain, Harry felt sure that Uncle Vernon was absolutely terrified when Harry told him that Mr. Weasley would be arriving. Perhaps Uncle Vernon expects Mad-eye there too, he thought with a laugh.
When noontime finally came, the Weasley's were nowhere in sight. He had forgotten that they tended to be late and could never follow a schedule to the minute like Uncle Vernon; or any muggle, for that matter.
There was a knock on the door and Harry heard the familiar oily voice in the living room.
"I hope you don't, uhhh, mind but I brought a rather, ummm, older instrument. It inflicts considerably more pain than the others, but I find it, errrr, most effective."
"Well you're the doctor," Uncle Vernon chortled merrily, "What's fine with you is fine with me."
"Excellent." Dr. Perry said.
Harry began to hear footsteps outside his room, and, his door suddenly swung open to reveal an extremely excited Dr. Perry. He carried a small, metal box with various dials and wires under his arm along with a four-legged stool. He set the stool down, and then carefully placed the metal box on top of it. Subsequently he looked at Harry, absolutely glowing.
"So are we ready to, errr, speak honestly with each other today?" He asked, barely able to contain his jubilation. His gray hair was standing up in places and his normally impeccably neat, white uniform seemed to be slightly disheveled.
"Now, please place these on your forearm and temple." he commanded, bringing two electrodes out from his pocket and, after connecting them to the metal box on the stool, gave them to Harry. His left hand tightly clutched his billy club the entire time. Dr. Perry was clearly expecting resistance.
"This will administer a, uhhhh, small jolt of electricity," He began, hands shaking with anticipation, "If I feel that you are, ummmm, being less than truthful. You see, the human mind is very much like an egg," Dr. Perry continued, winding various controls on the box, "One quick crack, and the, uhmmmm, contents spill out cleanly. Too much pressure or force, and you threaten to rupture the yolk and ruin the, err, meal."
Harry wanted desperately to rip the electrodes off of his body, but, with the doctor watching his movements carefully with a billy club in his hand, he did not dare attempt anything.
"Let's begin, shall we?" He said, finishing tuning the dials on the metal box. They looked suspiciously like they were set to maximum. He picked up a steel controller that had a single, black button on it and held his thumb directly over it.
"Now tell me, what were you saving your cousin from?" The doctor demanded, his eyes glinting maliciously. No longer was there any mask of friendliness on his face. Now, there was only madness. "Were you, uhmmm, hallucinating something, Potter?" He was apparently not waiting for any answers. "Maybe you lied to me yesterday."
He pushed the small, black button on the controller and Harry felt a strong shock of electricity hit his body. He screamed out in pain.
"Why were you, errr, lying yesterday?" Dr. Perry raved, "DO YOU HAVE SOMETHING TO HIDE?"
He nearly pushed the black button again, but hesitated. His eyes fell on something in the corner of Harry's bedroom. Harry turned and his mind panicked: Dr. Perry was moving to open up Harry's traveling trunk that he had packed last night.
"Stay where you are." The doctor warned, now opening up the trunk and sorting through the contents.
"Where were you going, Potter?" Dr. Perry said, glancing over his shoulder frequently to ensure Harry had not moved. "Going on a little, uhhhh, vacation, I daresay."
Dr. Perry suddenly tensed and plucked an object out of the trunk. He held it up to the light, studying it intently. It was Harry's wand.
"Hmmmmmm, what is this Potter?" He asked, now looking directly at him. "What the devil is this."
He straightened and walked back over to Harry, billy club now drawn out in his left hand while he held Harry's wand in his right. "Tell me, now. If you don't, I will have to destroy it."
Harry sighed deeply. He could not let the bastard destroy his wand.
"It's a wand. Its similar to the one used by, uh, celtic druids. So I am studying it." Harry said, unable to think of anything better.
"A, uhhh, wand, is it?" Dr. Perry said in an oily voice, his eyes locked onto Harry's wand. "Abra Kadabra!" He shouted, laughing. Carelessly, he threw it away. Harry breathed again.
"So, ummmm, Potter, what were you planning to do with a trunk full of luggage?" The doctor asked, his voice mocking.
"Well, my friends the Weasley's were planning to pick me up today at noon, but apparently they're a little late." Harry said casually.
"FILTHY LITTLE LIAR!" Dr. Perry roared, grabbing the controller. Suddenly, someone knocked on the front door and the doctor froze.
"I guess that's them." Harry said and yanked the electrodes off his arm and temple, then dashed out of the room before Dr. Perry could realize what was happening.
When Harry reached the bottom of the stairs, he saw Uncle Vernon and Mr. Weasley standing at the doorway. Uncle Vernon's face was a deep shade of red that he usually reserved only for Harry, while Mr. Weasley seemed very relaxed, almost amused.
"HE WILL BE STAYING HERE WITH ME!" Uncle Vernon shouted, spraying spit all over Mr. Weasley's face. "I AM HIS GUARDIAN. HE WILL NOT GO WITH YOU- WITH YOU-"
"Freaks?" Mr. Weasley offered. He was obviously experienced in dealing with muggles in distress.
"THEN WE AGREE ON SOMETHING!" Uncle Vernon roared on the top of his lungs.
"Harry," Mr. Weasley said, as if noticing him for the first time, "Go grab your things. We will be leaving momentarily." He stared meaningfully at Harry when he said this.
"NOW YOU WAIT A RUDDY MINUTE!"
What happened next, Harry did not know. He ran back up the steps, and, when he entered his bedroom, found Dr. Perry staring at Ron and Hermione, who were now standing with their backs to the window. Dr. Perry threatened them violently with his billy club.
"I AM WITH A PATIENT," The doctor screamed, swinging his club in the air like a caveman, "Out! Out I say!"
Dr. Perry took a step towards Ron and Hermione, but Harry, who grabbed his thick, fourth year potions book off of his dresser, slammed it down hard onto Dr. Perry's head, knocking him out cold.
"Nice one Harry!" Ron said, giving him a thumbs up. "I guess we can't say potions is worthless after all!"
"HARRY!" Hermione squealed, throwing her arms around him in a bone-crunching hug. "We were so worried when we-" Harry silenced her.
"Can't talk now. We have to get out of here." Harry said, untangling himself from her arms.
"Oh, right!" she said, releasing him. Ron began laughing behind her.
"But first..." Harry picked up the billy club off of the floor and, summoning all his strength, smashed the metal box on the stool into countless electronic fragments. He studied the pieces for a brief second, then, finding his wand and packing it quickly, lifted his trunk and the three of them climbed down from the window.
The trio stepped down a ladder that Ron and Hermione had found in the shed, and, when they reached the ground, took off running towards the ministry car that Mr. Weasley had parked in front of the house.
Harry threw his trunk in the back of the car and signaled Mr. Weasley that they were ready to go. Mr. Weasley nodded and made his way back to the car, leaving a very flabbergasted Uncle Vernon behind him. Harry, Ron and Hermione all sat in the back seat of the car; which was enchanted so that it was much larger than it appeared on the outside.
After Ron closed the door, Hermione said, looking close to tears, "I'm so sorry we were late Harry! We had trouble finding a way up to you and we certainly couldn't use magic and-" But Harry stopped her.
"It's alright." He said, smiling, "I'm just glad I'm out of there."
"That guy was completely mental." Ron said, sounding awed. "I mean, we knew he was crazy from what you told us in your letter, but wow!"
"Yeah," Harry said, leaning back in the comfy seat, "Lucky you guys got there when you did. A few more minutes and the git was going to zap me again with the toy he brought."
"Again?" Hermion asked, beginning to bite her lower lip, "What did he do to you? Are you hurt?" She immediately searched his arms and face for bruises or cuts.
"No I'm fine. Really I am." Harry said quickly.
"Well what did he do?" Ron asked excitedly, immensely interested in what mad muggle doctors use for punishment.
"Well," Harry began, "He brought this metal box in and had me put electrodes on my forearm and temple," He gestured to where the electrodes were. The skin was discolored where the electricity entered his body. "And then if he suspected that I was lying to him, which I wasn't, at least most of the time, he would press a button and jolt me with a shock of electricity."
"HE DID WHAT?!" Hermione screamed, clearly outraged.
"He did what?" Ron asked, sounding confused.
"He used electricity-" Hermione said, then rolled her eyes, seeing Ron's blank expression "Oh, honesty, you should really take Muggle Studies."
"Well what is it?" Ron demanded.
"The way the doctor used it on Harry, it would cause enormous amounts of pain." She said, her eyes filled with worry. Ron's mouth formed a silent 'oh'.
"Well, umm," Harry said akwardly, trying to break the silence, "How are things at the burrow?"
"Well mum began to cry when I told her about Percy sending you that letter," Ron said, "She thinks that he is trying to make amends with everyone." Ron shook his head disbelievingly.
"Maybe he is," Hermione said sharply, "I bet he feels awful about last year."
Alarm bells began ringing in Harry's head. His head began spinning with ways to stop the row from going too far.
"Yeah, well you don't know Percy like I do," Ron shot back, "He's a git and I will never forgive him for what he said about-" He dropped his voice to a whisper, not wanting Mr. Weasley to hear, "-about Mum and Dad and you, Harry, in that letter."
Harry breathed a sigh of relief. For once, the argument stopped itself. Hermione muttered "Can't just forgive and forget, can you? Honestly..." under her breath, and Ron started staring out the window.
Harry was beginning to wonder whether Hermione was just referring to Percy when Mr. Weasley said from the front seat, "We'll be home in ten minutes. Harry, when we get there, I want to speak with you alone if you don't mind."
"Sure." Harry said, feeling apprehensive. The last time Mr. Weasley asked to speak with him alone was in Harry's third year when he told Harry that Sirius Black was trying to murder him.
"So, errr, how's Hedwig?" Harry asked tentatively, attempting to strike up conversation again. It was very uncomfortable sitting between his two best friends that he hasn't seen all summer and not speaking with them.
"Oh, she's doing great!" said Hermione brightly, acting as though the argument never happened, "She arrived right after I did and gave us the letters you wrote to us."
"Great," Harry said after a brief pause, "How did you two do on your O.W.L's?"
"I received an 'Outstanding' on everything except Astronomy and Ancient Runes." Hermione said, beaming. "Though if I stayed focused during Astronomy and had paid closer attention to my runes, I would've done better." She added, her smile faltering slightly but still grinning from ear to ear.
Harry waited a moment. "Ron?"
"What? Oh...yeah," He said, coming out of his reverie, "I got an 'Outstanding' in Herbology somehow, an 'Exceeds Expectations' in Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, and Care of Magical Creatures; and 'Acceptable' for almost everything else."
Hermione's eyes narrowed. "Almost?"
"Oh, ummm," Ron began to nervously fumble with his robes, "Well I got a 'Poor' in Potions and Divination, not that I don't care or anything." He added quickly, "But I guess this means no more Snape!"
"So what did you get Harry?" said Hermione, rolling her eyes at Ron.
Harry told them his O.W.L. results. Hermione brightened.
"That's great! We'll probably be in a lot of the same classes together."
Ron looked at him incredulously. "How did you get an 'Outstanding' in Potions?"
Harry shrugged. "My marks in Potions has more to do with Snape's hatred of me than my understanding of the subject."
"Alright, we're home!" Mr. Weasley called out.
The three of them jumped out of the back seat. Harry was about to join Ron and Hermione in their walk up to the Burrow, but he remembered Mr. Weasley wanted to speak with him, so he said, "I'll be up in a minute." They both nodded.
Harry waited for Mr. Weasley to step out of the car before talking.
"Ah, Harry," Mr. Weasley said, studying him, "How have you fared over the summer?"
"I fared as well as I could." Harry replied, waiting for Mr. Weasley to get to the point.
"Well, I wanted to talk to you about Sirius's death." He began, having trouble meeting Harry's eyes.
"I'm over it," Harry assured him, "I miss him a lot, but I realized I can't brood on him for the rest of my life." Despite himself, Harry heard his voice crack.
"Yes, I -I know," Mr. Weasley continued, "But it has more to do with what he, umm, with what he willed."
Comprehension dawned on Harry. "I see..."
"He gave Grimmauld Palace and his vault in Gringotts to you, Harry." Mr. Weasley said, valiantly trying to meet Harry's gaze. Harry noticed Mr. Weasley's ears turning red.
"The Order of the Phoenix can use Grimmauld Palace whenever they wish." Harry said quickly.
"Thank you, but that isn't really the reason I need to speak with you." Mr. Weasley's eyes finally locked onto Harry and he spoke slowly and deliberately. "It has more to do with, well, Sirius's wishes."
Harry stood silently, completely confused.
"This isn't the right time," Mr. Weasley shook his head. "I chose the wrong time." He repeated, "I'm sorry Harry, but...but I will tell you tonight. It will be better when- when he arrives. Its my fault. I shouldn't have told you until after..." His voice trailed off. His ears became an even deeper red that rivaled the shade of Uncle Vernon's neck during one of his rages.
Mr. Weasley picked up Harry's trunk and began to carry it to the Burrow, leaving Harry leaning heavily on the black ministry car; trying desperately to understand what exactly Mr. Weasley told him.
---------------------------------------------------------------
When Harry entered the Burrow, he found Ron and Hermione waiting for him in the family room, both sitting in overstuffed chairs and watching the doorway expectantly. Hermione's face was lined with sympathy and Ron's brow was furrowed in a questioning look. The fire crackled merrily in the background. Crookshanks was sprawled in front of the fireplace; a deeply satisfied look on his crunched-up face.
"What did dad want?" Ron asked carefully, worried about the resigned look on Harry's face.
"Was it about Sirius?" Hermione asked quietly.
"I think so. I don't really know," Harry said truthfully. He walked slowly across the room and sat in a worn loveseat. He took off his glasses and rubbed his face with both hands. "He started to tell me something but then he just sort of stopped. 'Said he chose the wrong time."
Hermione sighed sadly and uncrossed her legs. Slowly, she stood up and sat down next to Harry. "Do you want to talk about it?" She asked.
Harry shook his head. "There isn't much to talk about."
The trio sat in silence as Harry watched the flames flicker in the fireplace. He focused specifically on an old, thick log that was being licked by small tongues of fire. When it collapsed in a flurry of ashes and sparks, he turned his head and was startled to see Ron holding his face in his hands.
"Ron?" Harry asked, now sitting up.
"Harry, Hermione," Ron said, lifting his face from his hands, "I should probably tell you something." He turned to them.
He felt Hermione tense beside him. Apparently this was news to her as well.
"Last year, when we were in the Department of Mysteries," He began; his voice was hollow and empty, "I scarred by one of those..." He paused, trying to find the right word, "Brains. You remember how Madam Pomfrey said that sometimes thoughts can be permanent?"
Harry and Hermione nodded.
Ron took a deep breath before continuing. "I think that the brain did something to me," he gulped and plunged onward, "I can feel it." Harry looked at him questioningly, "I can't look at Dumbledore without becoming terrified and angry at the same time." He stared at them desperately, "Sometimes I have fits where I lose track of time. Its never more than a minute or two, but I can't remember what I did. And now...now I've been doing spells I've never heard of or seen before." He stopped, waiting for a reply.
"Spells?" Harry asked, breaking out of a shock, "What kind?"
"I don't know!" Ron croaked, "That's just it, I don't know. All I see is a flash of light come out of my wand and something happens. Always when I am angry or sad or afraid. It doesn't make an ounce of sense. What's happening with me?"
Harry and Hermione looked at each other and then turned to Ron. Their faces were mingled with sympathy and alarm.
"Do you think Vold-"
"No." Harry said instantly. "That's impossible."
Hermione shifted uncomfortably in her seat and said, "What were those brains, Ron? Who did they, err, belong to?"
"The Unspeakables won't say." Ron scoffed, "You know; secrecy and all that."
Hermione bit her lower lip. "Maybe those brains left an imprint on you. Not enough for full possession," she added quickly after seeing Ron's face, "But enough for you to become...strange...at times. Did any of those spells you performed, well, look powerful?"
Ron thought for a moment, then shook his head.
"What does your dad say?" Harry asked.
"He reckons the same as what Hermione said." Ron said, looking a bit brighter, "We went to St. Mungo's and they told us that, although it will never go away completely, the fits will reduce in strength eventually," Ron sighed deeply and then continued, "The Healers also said that a memory charm to remove the imprint would work, but that it would have to be incredibly strong. And since memory charms are very tricky to use and there is a significant risk that the charm would remove all of my memories, the Healers felt that the risk simply wasn't worth it."
"What do you do in the meantime?"
"Well, continue with my life." Ron answered, "The Healers told me that I will always be unconsciously influencing what I do when I have one of my...fits. In other words, my unconscious brain would not allow myself to, say, kill Crookshanks." He added with a small smile.
"You'll be at Hogwarts, then." Harry nodded, relieved. For a moment, he feared that he would no longer have Ron as a companion during his sixth year.
"Though," Ron said, now staring at the worn rug in front of him, "The Healers said I will never recover completely."
At that moment, Mrs. Weasley stepped into the room and gave Harry a warm smile. "Hello Harry dear," she said, and then, in a louder voice so Ron would hear, "Lunch is ready." After seeing their distant, disconcerted looks, she added "Is something wrong?"
"No, mum." Ron replied, "I'm just telling them…things."
"Oh, of course," She tried to smile brightly, but Harry could see sadness in her eyes, "I'll be in the kitchen if you need anything." She silently left the room.
"Who else knows?" Hermione asked quietly.
"Well," Ron said timidly, "No one outside immediate family, and, of course, you two. Dad wants it to stay that way, so don't say anything." He added quickly.
"Of course," Harry and Hermione said together.
"Are you-" Harry began, struggling to find the appropriate word, "Are you dangerous in your fits?" He asked, not quite meeting Ron's eyes. He did not want to hurt Ron's feelings, but he needed to know, regardless.
"Oh, no!" Ron said rather loudly, "At least I haven't been yet. The most physical damage I've ever done was knock over a chair and break the tip of a quill. Nothing serious."
"Come on, if you don't hurry you'll miss lunch." Mrs. Weasley called out from the kitchen.
"Coming!" Ron called back, moving from his chair. Nothing could get between Ron and a good meal, thought Harry, amused.
"We'll talk about this later mate." Harry promised as the three of them stood up from their seats. "You can't go through this alone. We'll always be there for you. You know that, right?"
"Yeah, but we don't have to talk later." Ron said, turning to him. He appeared considerably better. "I'm just glad I got that off my chest, you know? I wasn't sure how you guys would take it."
"Don't worry Ron; I know how you feel." Harry said truthfully as they approached the kitchen. Mrs. Weasley was waving her wand about wildly, managing the multiple spells that automatically washed the pots and pans, dried them, and then put them away.
"Ah, soup and fish." Ron said, sitting at the large, round table that could fit up to twelve people comfortably. "Never used to care for fish much," He continued, ladling the soup into his bowl. "But its starting to grow on me, you know?" Hermione's expression became worried, but only Harry seemed to notice.
"So when are we going to pick up our N.E.W.T. level books?" asked Harry conversationally, becoming fascinated by the way Ron utterly devoured everything on his plate.
"W'll pec 'em op tumarow." Ron said through a mouthful of food. Harry looked at Hermione questioningly.
"He said we will be picking up our books tomorrow," She said, reading Harry's confused look, "We are planning to head to Diagon Alley tomorrow."
"That's what I just said!" Ron muttered after swallowing a mouthful of fish. "You two'll probably be needing your sixth year Potions books." He added, now smiling widely, "Not me, though. I'm done with Snape's class."
"Professor Snape." Hermione said under her breath.
"Whatever," Ron answered, hearing her despite her discretion, "That git doesn't deserve to be called a professor."
"Watch your mouth at the table!" Mrs. Weasley warned, glaring nastily at Ron. "I thought we raised you better than that.
"Well its true." Ron retorted, picking up another piece of fish and taking a large bite. Mrs. Weasley did not respond, but Harry was sure she heard Ron.
"Hey Ron," Harry said, sitting up in his chair, "After lunch can I borrow Pig? Hedwig has been delivering a lot of mail this past week and I want to give her a break. I need to send in my sixth year courses."
"'ure." Ron answered, his eyes never leaving his plate.
Harry leaned back in his chair and began watching a fly zoom around the kitchen, wondering who he was about to meet tonight.
"Is there something wrong Harry dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked, seeing his distracted face.
"No, nothing." Harry said absently, becoming fascinated with the meandering fly.
Mrs. Weasley sighed. "Did Arthur tell you about who you're going to meet tonight?" It wasn't a question. "I suppose its all for the best, then," She continued, waving her wand at the last of the pots that still needed to be put away. They hovered briefly and then flew into the cupboard, landing neatly in sequence. "But Arthur should have waited until you settled in a bit."
Harry's interest in the fly suddenly vanished and he asked, "Do you know who it is?"
Mrs. Weasley shook her head. "Yes I do, dear, but I think you should meet him without any preconceived notions in your head. Really, Harry," She said, looking directly into his eyes, seeing the frustration there, "Its best if you don't know until tonight."
"I know you don't like secrets Harry," Hermione said, looking into his eyes. She leaned over and placed her hand next to his. "But if Mister and Misses Weasley think you should wait, then please wait."
Harry gazed into her concerned eyes and nodded his head, finding himself unconsciously agreeing.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
When night finally came, the Weasley's, Harry, and Hermione gathered in the family room, relaxing in the comfy, overstuffed furniture that surrounded the roaring fire. Shadows floated eerily along the walls, and Harry followed them vaguely, becoming impatient for the mysterious visitor to turn up.
"So, er, how is he going to arrive?" Harry asked, breaking the near-total silence of the room.
Mr. Weasley sat up in his seat, seemingly coming out of a trance. "He should be coming by way of the floo network sometime soon," He said, "And he follows schedules very muggle-fashion: To the minute."
Harry nodded and sunk back into the chair. Crookshanks jumped onto his lap and purred faintly. Harry conceded and began to stroke his fur softly, deep in thought about the imminent meeting. He felt nervous, he admitted, but a strange sense of curiosity gripped him more tightly. He glanced towards the fireplace anxiously to see if he could see the outline of a body or head. He saw, of course, nothing. Absentmindedly, Harry checked his watch despite the fact that it had been broken long ago, and then settled a little more comfortably into his seat.
"Any ideas on who the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor is?" Harry asked, trying to make conversation to help pass the time.
"I don't know," Hermione said, "I suppose we'll know soon enough." Ron simply shrugged his shoulders, his eyes locked on the fireplace.
"Oh, I could tell you that," Mr. Weasley said, as if hearing them for the first time, "Dumbledore had trouble finding a new professor this year, so the ministry offered to send one of their Aurors to teach. Oh, don't worry." He said quickly, seeing Harry's widening eyes, "Dumbledore had a say this time in who was chosen. Eventually, Fudge and Dumbledore agreed on Henry Whams."
Harry breathed a sigh of relief. Although the ministry now accepted Voldemort's existence, he still did not trust them completely. He felt comforted now that a new, Dumbledore-approved professor would be teaching the Defense Against the Dark Arts classes, rather than another terrible woman like Umbridge.
Suddenly, a man's head popped into the fireplace. Mr. Weasley automatically jerked up and strode over to the fireplace, effectively blocking everyone's view of the head and therefore the identity of the owner. Mr. Weasley and the man seemed to talk for a moment, and then, after nodding his head affirmatively, he backed up a few steps and allowed a tall, dark figure of a man to crawl out of the fireplace.
The figure straightened, dusted his black cloak with large, gloved hands, and then spoke in forced politeness, "I implore you all to leave this room. Now. Except you." He added, pointing imperiously at Harry.
The command was obeyed instantaneously by everyone. Not out of respect, but because the very tone of his voice was subtlety laced with venom and controlled anger. Ron stared at the figure, with blatant disbelief written across his face. Mr. Weasley gave the figure a short nod before turning and following the rest of the Weasley's out of the room. Hermione placed her hand on Harry's shoulder and whispered "Be careful" before leaving.
The figure was now illuminated darkly by the firelight. Harry squinted to more accurately make out the man's features and expression. The figure's face was predatory; nearly hawkish. He had high cheekbones and every part of him was made up of sharp, definite angles; almost like he was carved out of solid rock. He was completely bald, but Harry knew that if the figure had hair, it would be greasy black. His shoulders were broad and slack, and Harry guessed his height to be a little over six and a half feet. The man carried himself arrogantly about, seeming to be able to recognize and dismiss everything in his sight at the same time, and wore a thick, heavy black robe that almost dragged onto the ground. Everything about the figure screamed 'Dark Wizard' and Harry felt himself shudder. Harry began to have a nervous feeling that he was staring at Dr. Perry's older brother.
Then, Harry's eyes locked onto the figure's. They were black and deep set; and gave the impression of immeasurable cruelty and unforgivable hatred. Harry noticed with growing tension that the man's eyes were studying him appraisingly, and that he did not seem to like what he saw. The eyes fell onto Harry's scar, which began to burn faintly; though from unexplained fear or the man's gaze, Harry could not tell. The figure suddenly turned away, as if Harry's scar had offended him personally.
The black-robed man turned back to Harry, now gazing deeply into his eyes. "I am Alexander Gates," He said in an incredibly flat and icy voice. For some reason, Harry had the odd feeling that he had heard that name from somewhere. "Order of Merlin, first class. Ex-Auror of the Ministry of Magic. Currently a professional independent Hit-Wizard. You may call me either Mr. Gates or Master Gates, I do not care."
Harry nodded and said nothing. I bet he's a real bastard, he thought.
"You're Harry Potter, student at Hogwarts. Now going into your sixth year," He said, his voice chilled with a hint of mockery. "Correct?"
Harry hesitated, then realized that the figure was probably expecting a response. "Yes." He stammered. Something about Mr. Gates unnerved him.
"Allow me to get straight to the point, Potter," Gates said, pacing slowly about the room. Harry apprehensively remembered that only Snape called him by his last name, and he involuntarily felt for his wand, reassuring himself that it was still there. "I have been given the unfortunate task of…protecting…you by an old acquaintance of mine. He sent me a letter directing me to watch over you during your entire sixth year at Hogwarts. Seemed to believe you will be in some sort of danger." He glanced at Harry vaguely, watching for a reaction.
"Alright…" Harry began, unsure of what to say.
Mr. Gates stopped pacing and turned his head sharply towards Harry. Shadows from the fire danced wildly across the right side of his face. "Harry, my acquaintance said that you have some experience fighting the Dark Lord and his underlings. He said you feel you can duel them to a degree." Rage was now clearly burning in the man's eyes. Harry gulped.
"I've had experience with them." Harry said, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.
"You've had experience have you?" Gates hissed, laughing maliciously, though the laughter did not reach his eyes. "I daresay you won't be having experience with them this year. There will be no silly nonsense heroics this year, I can promise you that. No more silliness that results in real people dying; though I daresay your sense of reality has been drastically skewed from the idol worship." His expression was taunting; and that more than anything provoked Harry to anger.
Harry stood up from his chair. "I was tricked into going there! Besides it wasn't heroics, I was just trying to save-"
"SILENCE!" Gates roared, fury etched in every line in his face, as if he had never been addressed so rudely in his life. "Though you may believe you are some sort of great hero, I know for a fact you are not, Potter, so sit down!" Harry sat stiffly, "I believe all of your publicity has bloated your ego far too much. That," He added, sharp teeth now glinting from under his mocking smile, "Will be dealt with, as well."
Harry felt himself disliking Gates every moment he spent with him. He thought Snape had hated him, but with Gates it seemed that Harry had attacked him personally.
"Leave then," Harry said, much louder than he meant be, "If I am such a fraud then I am not worth your time. Get out." He commanded, sounding more confident than he felt.
"Oh, you think I don't want to, Potter?" Gates snarled, eyes glaring at him, "You think that if I had the choice I would be here babysitting the great hero Potter rather than fighting Dark Wizards and Death Eaters across Britain? My client, Merlin damn him, used an old favor to magically bind me to this monotonous task. For some reasons that I have yet to discern, he seems to believe your life is worth something. Though I adamantly disagree, I have no say. So I am trapped here, Potter. I am bound to follow you and watch over you and guard you for every second of your current year at Hogwarts so you don't trip down the stairs or do some other equally imbecile thing."
Harry groaned inwardly. Gates will be following him everywhere?
"Oh, Potter, I know the truth behind all of your little 'accomplishments'." Gates continued, enunciating every word to make it more effectively sink into Harry's mind, "I know how the Priori Incantatem saved your hide from the Dark Lord after that pitiful tournament that the ministry hosted for little children. I know how you only accomplished your Expecto Patronus on those hundred Dementors by using a time turner illegally. I know many things, Potter."
Harry's mind was racing. How did Gates know? Only a handful of people knew either of those secrets.
Gates grinned. "Does the omnipotent Harry Potter find it shocking that someone knows that he is truly just an amateur wizard who simply had luck on his side?"
Harry had said something similar to that before, but that did not lessen his surge of rage and anger.
"And Voldemort-" Harry was cut off.
"HOW DARE YOU SPEAK THE DARK LORD'S NAME!" Gates bellowed, withdrawing his wand. He caught himself before casting a curse. "You-" He said, panting heavily, as though threatening Harry had cost him great exertion, "You dare speak the Dark Lord's name when you don't have an inkling of his true power. You, who have never killed a Dark Wizard, or even defeated one without some sort of luck or help. You think you have faced the worst?" He said, glaring at Harry with overpowering hatred. "You know nothing of the worst. I have seen such cruelty…such empty cruelty. You are ignorant of what Dark Wizards can do." He put away his wand.
Gates paused for a minute, regaining his composure. His expression returned to its previous, icy state. "I have almost full control over you Potter," He began, his grin returning and his eyes reflecting unrestrained hate. "If I do not like what you are doing, I can stop you. If I don't like who you are speaking to, I can stop you. I can tell you where to go and when to go." His grin faltered momentarily, "With only a tiny, almost miniscule check on my power. You will not be permitted your usual ridiculous adventuring around the school and the Forbidden Forest. You will survive this school year, but after that I promise nothing." Gates's eyes glinted maliciously.
"What fool hired you?" Harry said out loud, not expecting an answer but wanting one all the same.
"Oh, this is the part I especially enjoy." Gates said vindictively, his grin broadening, "Your damnable Godfather, Sirius Black, sent me his last wishes as I owed him a favor from long ago. As you may know, his last wishes and the unpaid favor created a magical bond. So, you see, Sirius," He spat the name out as if it put a bitter taste in his mouth, "Condemned me to this fate. Merlin help me, he will regret this somehow."
Harry allowed this to sink in. A once familiar sadness crept up into him. Why Sirius? Harry thought, Why did you have to send this bastard to watch over me? You know I can take care of myself.
"I daresay he is requesting a bit much for the minor favor he did me," Gates said nastily, "But who am I to argue now that the one whom he asked me to protect is also the one who managed to get him killed."
Harry willed himself not to pull out his wand and hex Gates into oblivion. He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. When he opened them again, Harry saw Gates staring directly into the flames of the fire. Once again, Gates reminded Harry of a predatory bird watching his prey.
After a time, Gates spoke again. "I need to know all of your acquaintances at Hogwarts. Everyone and anyone you're close to or might be in danger just for knowing you." He said this all in a business-like way and Harry figured this was something Sirius required him to do, as well. Harry told him the name of every member of Dumbledore's Army, and decided that covered everyone.
Gates stood silently for a moment, committing the information to memory. "Is there a girlfriend?" He asked as though he already knew the answer but needed to ask anyway. Harry saw his eyes flicker over to the archway where Hermione had passed under when she left the room. He understood at once.
"She's not my girlfriend." Harry said, surprised by the small tone of regret that had somehow entered his voice.
"Hmm?" Gates asked, giving the smallest hint of surprise before masking his face over again. "She isn't?" He seemed troubled somehow by that news. He quickly withdrew a piece of parchment from his robes and glanced over it briefly before returning it. "Inaccurate information." he muttered under his breath, "Damn him and his favor."
"What's this favor you keep talking about?" Harry demanded, still trying to sort out all the thoughts in his head. Suddenly, he understood how Gates knew of the time turner and the Priori Incantatem. Sirius must have told Gates everything in the message he sent him. Fleetingly, Harry wondered what else Sirius told Gates.
"That is none of your concern." Gates said brusquely. "However, he asked…no…commanded me to give you a scroll in the letter he sent me. I don't know what it says." He turned away from the fire and brought his left hand under his cloak. When he pulled it out again, it was holding an old, battered piece of rolled parchment with a seal.
Harry stood up from his chair and snatched it out of Gates's arm. Gates threw him a venomous glare and returned to the fireplace. Harry broke the seal and unrolled it, reading quickly.
Harry,
If you are reading this than something terrible has happened to me and I can no longer watch over you. No matter the circumstances of my demise, I assure you that my death was the result of my own doing and decisions. Do not think for a moment that you could have changed what happened. Please, do not brood over me.
This letter is not going to be about my death, however, but about your own future.
You must not play the hero anymore, Harry. I know that I have always risked a little more than was wise, but if I died then Voldemort is much stronger than previously anticipated. I cannot allow you to continue to put yourself at risk for the sake of others.
Since you received this message, than you must be in contact with Alexander Gates. He comes from an obscure branch of my family tree that had been removed a century ago by my great-grandmother: Probably because her sister engaged in a relationship with a muggle, and they started a family. Gates would be her great-grandson now, I believe.
I sent him a private letter that explains everything that has happened with you over your life. He tends to keep to himself, and isn't used to having human contact. Try to get along with him and learn from him. His powers rival Dumbledore's.
Harry tore his eyes away from the letter to see Gates standing statue-like by the fire. His right hand twitched incessantly in what Harry guessed to be an involuntary movement. Abruptly, as if Gates sensed his gaze, the hand grew still. Harry turned back to the scroll.
Since you will be spending one school year with him, you should probably know a bit about him. Me and Alexander have known each other since our second year at Hogwarts. Though I never considered us close friends, I believe I was as close of a friend that he ever had. Like you, he lost his parents to a Dark Wizard. Unlike you, he never recovered from the loss and remained isolated from everyone. He swore that he would eventually kill those who murdered his family, and, eventually, he did.
After we graduated from Hogwarts the two of us went our separate ways. Before graduation, though, I did him a favor. What that favor was is irrelevant, and it is not my place to discuss it. As soon as he was out on his own he hunted down the Dark Wizards who had killed his mother and father and, one by one, destroyed them all. He never used the Unforgivable Curses to kill his targets, but one does not necessarily need the killing curse to put out the life of a wizard.
Afterwards, he joined the ministry and worked for a time as an Auror. Some time later, he quit. The reason is unknown to me; but that is hardly surprising as during this time I scarcely tracked his whereabouts and his doings. We haven't spoken since Hogwarts.
Once he quit the ministry, he took up the profession of Hit Wizard and began a sort of rampage that spanned entire continents as he seeked out Dark Wizards and killed them indiscriminately. I don't know the specifics of his campaign, nor do I know exactly how many he killed, but Merlin knows few wizards in all of history fought against the Dark Arts as he did.
Ironically, if his parents weren't killed by Dark Wizards, he probably would've become a Death Eater
himself. He followed that sort of ideology during Hogwarts, and I daresay he does now. Not wide-spread slayings, of
course, but he was very for having pure bloods rule everything.
But do not judge him too harshly. I trust him completely; and he takes his honor very seriously. With my death he has become magically bonded to fulfill the favor he owed me, and no wizard can resist that. I have three favors for him to fulfill. One is to protect you for one school year. Another is that he must train you in advanced dueling magic; when he feels that you are ready. The third is private and is not related to you or Voldemort, so do not think I am keeping secrets from you Harry.
There are several allowances I have made for him so he can protect you effectively. If there is a reasonable amount of danger to your person, he may deny you access to any activities or places or people that he feels constitute a threat. If you resist, he is permitted to subdue you for your own protection. In addition, he is allowed to respond if you attack him first, so don't try anything reckless Harry. This is for your own protection, I promise you.
You may hate me now, but that is unimportant. You must remain safe. You must live through this. You were James's only son, Harry, and I begin to feel you were my only son as well. Here is my parting advice:
Never forget anything, Harry, and never regret.
Sirius
As Harry finished reading the scroll, he felt tears welling in his eyes and he began gasping for breath. Harry threw off his glasses and buried his face in his hands; allowing sobs to shake his body. He ran his fingers through is black hair, and tried to regain control of his body and emotions. "Oh God Sirius!" he cried, trembling all over.
Gates broke his gaze off of the fire and turned to Harry, his black eyes showing disgust. "I haven't seen such a pathetic sight in many a year." He spat, his voice devoid of sympathy, "The great Harry Potter who supposedly defeated the Dark Lord, crying over his dead Godfather months later. Let me tell you something, Potter," His face contorted into an expression of cruel delight, "Your Godfather was one of the most wretched and arrogant men I have ever had the misfortune to meet. He- He spoke to me like I was his little pet. Like I was honored just to be basking in the glory of his presence. Not only that; but he lied to me. He lied to me for so many years. Why, he seemed to believe the lack of family made us bonded in some way…though with my family I had little choice." He began to shake with rage. "He, however, was a traitor to his blood and for that I spit on his grave." Gates spat bitterly on the ground. "May he rot and go to whatever Hell there is; along with his worthless, arrogant friends. The Marauders, they called themselves? Worthless. And here, standing in front of me, is their equally worthless and arrogant spawn."
Harry summoned all of his strength to control his body from lashing out at the wizard in front of him. He knew nothing, Harry told himself, he knows nothing. Finally, he lost control and pulled out his wand, pointing it warningly at Gates, sparks flying from the end of it. "Shut up!" Harry shouted, "You don't know! All those Dark Wizards you killed rubbed off on you, didn't they?" Gates stared at him, his face deepening into a blood red, "Now you're no better than them. You're just another Death Eater!"
Harry shoved Sirius's letter into his pocket and ran from the room, leaving Gates standing in front of the fire, the light from the flames creating dark shadows across his face, making his angular features more prominent than ever. With a silent curse at being forced to coexist with Sirius's damnable Godson, he sat down.
Harry ran down the hall, heedless at the amount of noise his footfalls were making. He wanted more than anything to escape to his room where he could sleep off the rest of the night and wake up to a better day. Thoughts swam wildly in his mind; many of them violent. I swear to Merlin, he thought, I swear on my parents' graves, I swear on everything that has ever meant anything to me in my life that I will get that bastard back for what he said. That bastard will pay, I swear he will.
Then, Harry ran into the two people that he wanted to see the least at this moment. Ron and Hermione were standing at the base of the stairs, both looking terribly shocked to see him. Ron, though, not having a clear view of Harry's eyes, stood wordlessly, slightly confused.
"Harry we heard shouting and-" Hermione paused, seeing his tear streaked face, and then asked in her most calm voice, "Harry what happened in there?" Harry could see that she was debating in her mind whether to hug and comfort him or not.
"Harry!" Ron said, still unable to make eye contact with Harry, "You know who that was! That was Alexander Gates. He wrote-"
Harry looked from Hermione, to Ron, then back to Hermione; she was biting her lower lip. He shook his head slightly and ran up the steps, disappearing into the bedroom. Hermione glared angrily at Ron, who was apparently oblivious to what had just transpired.
"What's wrong with him?" He asked.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Alexander Gates sat back in the overstuffed chair that was previously occupied by Harry. He steepled his fingers meditatively, and stared blankly at the fire. His face betrayed none of the turmoil that now occurred within his mind.
He mentally reread passages of Sirius's message to him. He was always especially adept at memorizing such letters; easily able to recall them instantly even years after the fact.
You must be careful with Harry, Sirius had warned in his letter, He has a free spirit and it will be difficult to restrain him. But restrain him you must, Alex. You must protect him at all costs. He cannot die.
Gates skipped a few paragraphs in his mind.
Harry has many friends at school; I will not attempt to list them so you must ask him for that information yourself. However, just by being friendly with him they unwittingly put themselves in danger as well. I fear Voldemort will soon recognize Harry's tendency for holding his friends' lives above his own and will use that to trap him. Especially vulnerable is Hermione Granger. She is extraordinarily important to Harry and I sense that something strong may develop between the two. (If something hasn't already) Keep a careful eye on her as well.
Gates mind centered on a single thought: "Had Sirius overestimated their relationship? Perhaps. I must know soon…"
And, above all Alex, you must be prepared at all times for Voldemort fully-possessing Harry at isolated moments. Dumbledore told me that he sensed Voldemort's presence in Harry, and that it won't be long before Voldemort attempts such a thing. Subdue Harry until the possession passes, but do not harm him more than required.
Alexander felt hot rage surge into his head. "The Dark Lord is entering Potter's mind? Remember, Dumbledore told you that the Dark Lord had succeeded in controlling Harry briefly in the Ministry of Magic. The boy is tainted to the darkness now. It is irreversible."
Gates reached for his wand unconsciously. "Something must be done about that boy," he thought in the recesses of his mind. "Potter can become very dangerous indeed if the Dark Lord's presence continues. Potter's mind will be easily corrupted. By next year or the year after, he will be fully enveloped into the Dark Fold. No one resists the Dark Lord. Not even this Potter child." Alex's face contorted into a look of utter disgust. "The boy will be humbled this year. I will see to that."
"But what are you going to do about the boy?" Gates thought, leaning out from the soft cushioning of the chair, "He cannot be allowed to be absorbed into the Dark Fold. He will be far too dangerous…to his friends and everyone. Damn Sirius for forcing me into this. Did he know what this boy would become?"
The a dark, cruel idea entered his mind. "Yes; if I cannot kill him this year, and I cannot permit the Dark Lord to warp and strengthen his powers over the entire Hogwarts school year, then the only remaining solution without breaking my Magical Bond is…" Alexander began to grin madly, "…is to curse him to within an inch of his life. If I cannot kill him, I will destroy him." Gates's thoughts momentarily paused, "But not now. I must wait. I have to wait and tempt him into attacking me first. I will know when I have my chance. Next Spring, perhaps. Patience, "Alex told himself, "Patience is what will earn me this victory. Potter will be ruined before the Dark Fold can swallow him completely."
Suddenly, a sharp pain ran through his body. Pain more severe than he had ever experienced in his entire life. "Where did Potter go," He groaned, realizing that he had been away from Harry without knowing where he was for more than five minutes. The Magical Bond was tearing him apart. As soon as Harry read Sirius's scroll, the Magical Bond had become concrete.
"Damn Sirius, damn him to hell." Lifting himself out of the chair, Gates stumbled towards the stairwell, and, after discovering where Harry slept, stood like a sentinel outside of his door for the rest of the night, eyes peering intently into the darkness.
(A/N: At the end there, I went third person because it was rather necessary. For the vast majority of the story, however, it will be through Harry. On a side note, it may seem unrealistic that Gates when beserk on Harry for nearly no reason at all, but I will be getting to that in the next few chapters. Trust me, once you get to know Gates you will understand; his character is barely developed at this point. I would like to know what people think about the way I am developing Gates's character and any feedback would be appreciated. My highest priority in this story is to have most of the content original and creative; so if anyone out there has any suggestions to make - this story is rather pliable - don't hesitate to say something.
And before anyone asks, Harry didn't say anything about Dr. Perry to MR. Weasley or the Order because he doesn't want them to think he will break easily. (Remember Umbridge and the detentions) Not logical but it goes with his character, I feel.
Hope you enjoyed chapter two and you can expect chapter 3 up some time next week.)