Author's Note: Yes! I'm done with exams for the semester! No more studying, no more papers, no more stress for three glorious weeks! Yes! All I have to worry about is getting my Christmas shopping done, lol. I don't really have anything else to say, except to thank Nitya, as always, for being my wonderful beta. You're awesome girl! Hmm…sorry about the weird indentation.
CHAPTER TWO
SUMMER SURPRISES
When Harry Potter's involuntary chuckles finally ceased, he sat up in bed. He felt a cold chill down his spine, even though the temperature was quite warm. His scar twitched in irritation. He rubbed it absently as he pondered his strange dream. He had been in a room inside Lord Voldemort's head. He had seen and heard the plans of his nemesis, a man who Harry had to kill before he himself was killed.
And Harry thought he had been doing so well with his Occlumency since he had come back to the Dursleys.
He glanced over at the alarm clock on his desk. It was a little after two in the morning. He yawned. Before the interruption, he had been having a rather good dream involving a girl that he cared greatly for.
He scowled. Voldemort ruined everything.
He swung his legs over the side of his bed, running a hand through his unruly jet black hair. Quietly, he fumbled for his round glasses. When he put them on, he noted that Hedwig's cage was empty. The owl was probably out hunting. It still surprised Harry that the Dursleys actually allowed him to set her free these days.
He turned on a light, rubbing his eyes underneath his glasses. Seeing into Voldemort's mind while he slept always made him restless afterwards. He played back his vision in his head. The Dark Lord was planning on creating discord between countries using giants, assassinating members of the royal family, creating an army of Inferi (whatever they were), attacking cities at random, using an Egyptian specialist on curses, and finding the headquarters to the Order of the Phoenix.
Harry smirked. He knew exactly where the headquarters to the Order of the Phoenix was. He owned the house.
But there was something else. While he wasn't quite sure where Voldemort currently was, he knew where Voldemort had sent his son. It was as though he, Harry, had given the order himself.
The question that Harry had asked himself since he had seen the night that the baby was born was why? Why did Voldemort want a child? Professor Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, believed it had to do with Voldemort's quest for immortality. But how did a child make a person immortal? It didn't make any sense to Harry.
Still though, if the child was important to Voldemort, then he was dangerous-even if he was only three months old.
It would probably be a wise decision to inform Dumbledore about his dream. That way, preparations could be made. He scrambled over to his desk, shoving things off of it, trying to find a blank piece of parchment, his ink bottle, and a quill pen. When he finally found everything he needed, he sat down and began to write.
Dear Professor Dumbledore,
Sorry to bother you, but I figured that you would want to know this. I had another dream about Voldemort. I learned a lot of his plans too, which I think the wizarding world should be prepared for. Maybe they can be prevented. Anyway, I'm going to list them here for you.
1. He sent a Death Eater to split the giants and take them to different mountain ranges. One of them includes the Highlands. I think the others were the Alps, the Pyrenees, and the Carpathians.
2. He sent Lucius Malfoy on a mission that involves the Muggle royal family. I think he plans to have Malfoy kill them.
3. He sent Wormtail to get in touch with the werewolves and to create an army of Inferi. What exactly are Inferi anyway, sir?
4. He plans to attack several cities. The first is Manchester. After that is Glasgow.
5. He sent some Death Eaters to Egypt to get some great curse caster.
6. He sent Bellatrix Lestrange to find the Order's headquarters. Perhaps it would be best to move?
There's one more thing, Professor. He sent his son away. He sent Seth to live at the Malfoys' home. I saw Bellatrix Lestrange hand over his son to Narcissa Malfoy clearly. I just thought you needed to know that.
He hesitated before he wrote the next sentence. He wondered if Dumbledore would do what he was about to ask.
Also, I was wondering if I could receive updates on what Voldemort's up to? Being informed would be, I think, a very good thing for me.
Harry
Satisfied with his letter, he stuffed it into an envelope and set it on his desk. Hedwig would probably be out for several more hours. In any case, the letter could wait until morning.
He turned off his light and set his glasses down on his desk once more. He was feeling drowsy again. Quietly, he stumbled over to his bed and collapsed upon it before falling asleep once more. There were no dreams for him that time.
*****
Harry woke up the next morning to the sound of sawing. He groaned. The Dursleys were currently in the process of remodeling their back patio so that it could become a sun room. Uncle Vernon was taking on the project alone with a little help from his son, Dudley, from time to time. Usually, though, Dudley slept until noon and then, after a large helping of lunch, went out to spend time with his gang of friends.
Neither Uncle Vernon nor Aunt Petunia pestered Harry into helping. Since his arrival back to Privet Drive just one short week ago, his relatives had treated him like he didn't even exist. It wasn't anything that upset Harry. He was happy not to be getting yelled or glared at. He could do whatever he liked whenever he wanted, within reason. He couldn't raid their refrigerator or watch their television. He wasn't allowed to answer their telephone-which wasn't a new rule for Harry. He had never been allowed to answer their telephone.
He got up and stretched. Hedwig, he noticed, had returned from her nightly hunt and was snoozing in her open cage. After putting on his glasses, he checked the time. He found it to be a little past 8:30. Mentally cursing his uncle, he got up and started searching for some clothes to wear that day. When he found a clean shirt and a pair a jeans with only a few holes, he pulled them on before searching for his trainers. When he finally found them, he slipped them on before running a hand through his hair and leaving his room in hopes of finding breakfast still out.
He was in luck. There were two pieces of toast still left on the table, probably for Dudley should he wake before noon. Of course, Harry really didn't care if his humongous cousin starved. He snagged the two pieces of toast and headed back up to his room, munching happily along the way.
When he entered his room, he tore off the bread crust and placed them in Hedwig's cage. It was a poor substitute for owl treats, but he really didn't have a choice at the moment. Besides, it was a way for him to apologize to her about what he was going to do next.
"Hedwig, wake up," he said, swallowing the last mouthful. "I need you to take a letter to Dumbledore."
The owl did not stir.
"Hedwig," he said more forcefully.
Still the owl did not stir.
"Hedwig!" he yelled.
Finally the owl woke, blinking at him irritably with her large amber eyes.
Harry grabbed the letter he wrote during the night and held it up to her. "I need you to deliver this to Dumbledore," he repeated.
She, however, obviously didn't like being awakened. She snapped her beak furiously at him when he walked over and attempted to tie the letter to her leg.
"Please, Hedwig," he pleaded. "It's important. And look, I saved you a few bread crusts from breakfast. I promise you that I'll buy real owl treats in Diagon Alley when I go back."
She seemed to consider his offer for a moment, then grudgingly stuck out her leg.
"Thank you, Hedwig," he said gratefully, tying the letter to her outstretched leg. "Next time I have to send out a letter, I'll make sure that it's at least evening before I send you out."
She hooted softly before spreading her wings and flying out his open window. Harry watched her go and, as he did, he also watched as she did something that birds did quite often. It was followed up by a loud and piercing yell of "POTTER!"
So much for being invisible to the Dursleys.
Cringing, he ran over to his bedroom window and stuck his head out, looking directly down upon the irate form of Vernon Dursley. In his brown hair was a glop of white, causing Harry to cringe further.
Vernon snarled up at Harry, his face blotched purple. "Potter, I want that bloody pigeon out! Do you hear me-out! And if you won't part with it, you'll go too!"
"Vernon! Shush! The neighbors!" Aunt Petunia cried from beside him, looking around to make sure nobody was in earshot. "Come inside and I'll clean you up."
Harry pulled his head back inside. He looked around frantically for his wand, especially once he heard someone bounding up the stairs. He knew he was in for it, but he also knew that striking fear into his uncle's heart would curtail whatever punishment that was about to be handed to him. He finally found it and set it on the desk-within arm's reach-when his uncle threw open his door, bird feces still in his hair.
"I mean it, Potter!" Vernon roared. "Out! It goes now!" He stepped forward and reached for Hedwig's cage when Harry took a step back and laid his hand over his wand. Uncle Vernon stopped dead in his tracks.
"Hedwig stays," Harry said forcefully. "I need her."
Vernon eyed the wand warily as Dudley, ever the whale, stepped in the doorway behind his father, blinking sleepily. "Wha's goin' on, Dad?" he asked, yawning.
"Nothing Dudders. Go get dressed and help me with the sun room, would you?" Vernon asked.
"But I was planning on going-"
"Now!" Vernon yelled.
Dudley scowled and made a rude gesture behind his father's back before walking out.
Harry tapped his fingers lightly over his wand. "Hedwig stays. You aren't getting rid of her."
Uncle Vernon was very purple now. "Don't you tell me what I will and will not do! I run this household! What I say goes!"
Harry picked up his wand warningly.
"Don't you threaten me!" Vernon roared. "You can't do any of that nonsense yet legally anyway!"
"Oh, but I can on the thirty-first," Harry replied. "I'll be seventeen and have come of age. It's only a few short weeks away. Then I'll be able to do whatever I want." He twirled his wand idly. "You know, I have learned how to do human transfiguration. I could turn anyone I wanted into a bird, or a rat, or a toad. My only problem is that I'm not always successful at turning them back."
Uncle Vernon took a step back. Then he snarled, "Fine, keep the bloody bird for all I care, but if it poops on me one more time…"
"In the six years I've had her she's only pooped on you once. It's not likely that it will happen again," Harry said.
"But if it does-"
"I'll write the Order," Harry finished, his eyes gleaming.
Vernon stood up straighter, his eyes full of fear. His lip twitched. "At least keep the thing from going out in broad daylight. It's not normal," he said fiercely before he turned and stormed out of his room.
Harry let out a sigh of relief and set his wand down. Then he sat down on his bed. He was staring at his reflection in the mirror when he snorted and erupted into laughter.
Good job, Hedwig, he thought while he chuckled. I've got to buy you loads of owl treats for that one.
Still chuckling, he noticed an owl approaching. He knew it carried his copy of the day's Daily Prophet. Then he spotted another owl he didn't recognize right behind it.
Oh no, Harry thought with another chuckle, the Ministry found out Hedwig crapped on Uncle Vernon.
The owls flew in and landed on his desk. To the tawny owl with the newspaper clutched in its beak, Harry slipped a Knut out of his desk drawer and put it in the owl's leather pouch tied to its leg. He accepted the Daily Prophet and watched it fly away.
"Alright," he said to the other owl, "what do you have for me?"
The barn owl stuck its leg out and Harry untied a note. Then, it too, flew away. Frowning, Harry opened the note to find that it was actually a flyer for Apparition classes.
Are you a sixteen, going on seventeen-year-old Muggle-born or a young witch or wizard and have lost your parents to the War with You-Know-Who? Have no one to teach you how to Apparate at all? Then you're eligible to take Apparition classes with Ministry instructor Edgar Farr. Classes are from August 1st-10th. Ministry testing will take place on the 11th (there will also be testing on the 31st of October in Hogsmeade). Classes will take place in the old Planter's Magical Flower Shop next to Ollivander's in Diagon Alley. Classes cost 15 Galleons.
Harry stared at the flyer. Apparition classes? He knew that he was getting old enough to learn how to Apparate, but he had never thought about actually doing it. He didn't even know what it was like. What if while he tried he lost an ear? Or an eyebrow? Or half of his body?
He shuddered. Maybe it was best to focus on the positive.
Besides, learning how to Apparate couldn't be worse than Dudley learning how to drive, which had started the day after Harry arrived back from Hogwarts. Uncle Vernon had gone out with Dudley and gotten him a Learner's Permit, which meant the roads in Surrey were now highly unsafe.
Suddenly he wished he could talk to either his best friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger (of course, he'd like to think that Hermione was more than just his best friend). Surely they knew all about Apparition. Unfortunately, in the week since his return to Privet Drive, neither Ron nor Hermione had written him any letters, something that annoyed him. He probably could send them letters himself, but he didn't know if Hermione was going on holiday somewhere with her parents, and he really didn't want to intrude on the Weasley family, who were grieving over the loss of the third eldest son of the Weasley clan, Percy, who had been killed just a couple of weeks ago when he forced his way onto an Order team that successfully helped Harry and Hermione escape Voldemort's clutches. Percy had been the only casualty, not including the Auror turned Death Eater, Joaquin Crow, who killed himself after Voldemort left him behind. It was Crow who had murdered three innocent Hogwarts students during Harry's sixth year. It was Crow who had assaulted Ron and kidnapped Hermione, bringing both of them very close to their deaths. Luckily, both of them had survived, as did Harry, although he attributed that to a well-timed interruption.
Harry read the flyer one more time. He doubted that he would be able to attend the classes because there was no way that he could get to London if he stayed with the Dursleys past the start of August. And without receiving any mail from his friends, getting out of number four, Privet Drive was looking bleaker and bleaker with every passing day.
But what if, on his seventeenth birthday, he left? By wizarding law, he would be of age and allowed to be without a parent or guardian. He didn't have to stay with the Dursleys any longer than necessary. He could pack up his trunk the night before and leave in the morning. It would be easy. All he would have to do is walk a couple of blocks before hailing the Knight Bus with his wand. They would pick him up, but then where?
Well, he mused, I could probably rent a room at the Leaky Cauldron until school started back up again. He did it before his third year at Hogwarts, when he ran away from the Dursleys due to a fiasco involving Vernon's sister, Marge. He recalled it to be one of the best summers of his life.
Suddenly the part of his mind that usually spoke in Hermione's voice whispered, That's not a good idea…and he saw an image of the Leaky Cauldron in flames in his mind's eye.
He sighed. For the moment, living at the Dursleys kept him and others safe. The fact that Aunt Petunia had taken him in nearly sixteen years ago placed a protection on him that kept him safe while he could call number four, Privet Drive "home."
Anymore, though, Harry liked to refer to it as hell.
And at the moment, he couldn't wait to leave it.
Maybe he should write both Ron and Hermione. He really wanted to know how Hermione was doing and he was sure that Ron could use the distraction. When Sirius had died the previous year, any moments that he didn't spend dwelling on the loss were certainly welcome, save the moments he had to deal with Marge and her dog, Ripper. Of course, Ron and Percy were never exactly close, but he had still lost his brother. He had still lost a member of his family.
Then he thought better of it. Why remind Ron of what happened, which was probably what he, Harry, would do. Aside from the Death Eaters and the six that were in Percy's company when they crashed Voldemort's party, Harry and Hermione had been the last two people to see Percy alive. Ron knew that. It probably wasn't a good idea to remind him of it.
As for writing Hermione, he discovered as he walked over to his desk and pulled out a piece of parchment, he found that he was quite nervous. While he knew that he had strong feelings for her, he wasn't quite sure just how deep they ran. Did he love her? He knew she loved him. She had told him so before they parted the previous week. He remembered the conversation quite clearly.
"I know how I feel now. I've finally opened my eyes and saw what's right in front of me." He grabbed her upper arms. "It's you, Hermione. You're the one who's right in front of me and I finally see you for who you are-not as a friend, but as so much more. Hermione," he murmured, "I-"
"I love you," she said.
While it make his stomach do flip-flops to think about her confession, he felt disheartened to know that, before her interruption, he was not saying "I love you" to her, but rather "I think I fancy you." That phrase meant nothing in comparison to a declaration of love.
He sighed. What would he say to her? Never before had he had trouble coming up with something to talk to her about. He didn't know whether to broach the subject of dating or, even though she said she loved him, if they should just let things be for now. He wanted to be with her, but he didn't think he could take it if she rejected him.
Part of him wondered why Hermione would ever reject him, but another part hissed, She's not stupid. She knows that if you two ever were to be more than "just friends," Voldemort would kill her on the spot. She values her life and so should you.
He tossed the parchment aside. He could wait. He'd have to until he saw her again. He would let her make the first move, plain and simple. If she wanted to be with him, then she would tell him so. He knew her well enough to know that.
Instead, he grabbed the Daily Prophet and opened it up. The main headline glared at Harry in large bold letters.
MUGGLES REALIZING TRUTH OF "MYSTERIOUS" ATTACKS
Muggles are not as stupid as we in the wizarding world have been led to believe (writes Rita Skeeter). Slowly, but surely, these plain, ordinary specimens have been copping onto the fact that something "strange" is happening around Britain-whole towns catching on fire, people showing up in their "morgues" with bite marks, mass murder…in other words, the activities of You-Know-Who and his followers.
The Ministry of Magic is doing very little to curtail the knowledge that the wizarding world is at war. As of this past week, only two Obliviators were out in the Muggle world, modifying the memories of Muggles who had seen something they shouldn't. Security is failing. Two days ago, the Muggle "phone booth" that is used as the entrance to the Ministry of Magic nearly had a Muggle dial the correct number.
While it is easy to say that with Minister Amelia Bones we are much better off than with the late Cornelius Fudge, one must wonder just how much better off we truly are. It has been a full year since the public reemergence of You-Know-Who, and the Ministry is no closer finding him today than they were then.
You-Know-Who is a serious problem. But is the Ministry of Magic going to suffer even further by not doing enough to stop the spread of Muggle awareness? If Muggles learn the truth about the wizarding world, we may have as serious a problem on our hands as You-Know-Who has been. All of us have to fear the Dark Mark, so much so that St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Injuries and Maladies has reported three suicides, but adding the fear of persecution by Muggles is enough to drive us all over the edge. Letting Muggles know that there are really witches and wizards in the world would only mean an end to our way of life. I hope, for the sake of us all, that it does not come to that.
That was more an editorial than an article, Rita, Harry thought as he flipped the page. But as much as he disliked the notoriously nasty reporter, he had to agree with her on some points. If the Ministry let down its guard on the Muggle front, they could easily discover that all their fantasies about trolls, giants, goblins, and merpeople were true. Then the fear would settle in and the wizarding world would become hell on earth.
As he flipped the page again, another article caught his eye.
New Aurors to Spend Less Time Training
As with the last time You-Know-Who was in power, the Ministry has shortened the amount of time it will take for new Auror recruits to train. The standard amount of time for an Auror to train before the Ministry cut back was four years. Now all recruits will be required to do is nine months.
"We need new Aurors and fast," said Minister of Magic Amelia Bones yesterday after the announcement was made. "If we ever want to stop You-Know-Who, we're going to need all the qualified witches and wizards we can get."
"Cutting back to nine months from four years doesn't mean that we are going to detract from their training," said Xavier Jarrett, Head of the Auror Department. "In fact, those nine months are going to be the most intense nine months of their lives. Before, when they had four years to complete the training, it was more laid back. Now, we have no time to waste. They will learn everything they need to know, hone the skills they have, and then get out there and fight Death Eaters. It's the only way we can ensure safety in the wizarding world."
The Prophet will be keeping a close eye on the development of the new Aurors.
Nine months? Aurors were now only going to be trained for nine months? Was that all the amount of time his father had spent training before he had become a full-fledged Auror?
Harry mused about it for awhile, thinking about his own chances at becoming an Auror. If he survived his N.E.W.T.s, he could become an Auror nine months after he left Hogwarts. He could be fighting Death Eaters on an official capacity. He could do exactly what he wanted with his life much sooner. The possibility excited him.
He stayed in his room for most of the day until around six o'clock when, to his great surprise, Aunt Petunia called him downstairs. He had enjoyed not being bothered by the Dursleys, so when he came down the stairs, he bore a scowl on his face.
Aunt Petunia stood at the foot of the stairwell, gazing at him disapprovingly. "Have you ever tried a wet comb?" she asked. "And a shave wouldn't kill you."
Absently, he rubbed his rough cheek. He hadn't shaved in several days, but he didn't honestly think he looked that bad. "What do you want?" he asked her.
"I want you to set the table for dinner while I help your uncle with something for the sun room," she told him as they walked back towards the kitchen.
"Where's Dudley?"
"He's out with his friends," Petunia said.
Smoking on some street corner, Harry finished for her in his head.
"He said he'd be back in time for dinner," she continued on.
Of course he would. Dudley couldn't go a day without having six square meals.
"Alright," Harry replied. "What are we having?"
"Roast beef, potatoes, and broccoli," she replied dully.
"Oh."
"You'll be eating in your room, of course?" Aunt Petunia inquired.
"Do I have much of a choice?" Harry shot back.
She raised one of her plucked eyebrows at him. "It is you who has chosen to eat alone in your room this past week, Potter, so do not take that tone of voice with me."
"I reckon none of you want me around, so why force my company on you any more than I have to?" Harry said.
"You've made your point," Petunia replied.
Then a thought struck Harry. "But I actually would like to watch the news, seeing as there's a war going on and all."
She stared at him. "A war? There isn't any war going on," she murmured.
"You go on thinking that too," he said. "Truth is, there is a war going on…in the wizarding world."
A hiss escaped past her clenched teeth. "Don't talk about that stuff in this house," she snapped.
"I told you last summer that Lord Voldemort was back. He's done loads of stuff since last year. Have you heard about massacres in the news? Strange deaths? Whole towns on fire?"
Looking terrified, she nodded weakly.
"That's him," Harry confirmed. "That's all his doing-him, his Death Eaters, and the others they've got working for them."
"Others?"
"Vampires, giants…that sort of thing."
Petunia pulled out one of the kitchen chairs and sat down slowly. Then she shook her head. "Impossible," she murmured.
"Possible," Harry corrected. "And happening right now. Watch the television this evening and you'll see…something strange will be reported."
Her lip trembled. But then she sucked in a breath and stood up. "Set the table," she ordered, and walked briskly out of the room.
When dinner was served, Harry decided to join them and promptly requested that Dudley's kitchen television be turned to the news. The recently returned Dudley howled in protest, but Aunt Petunia surprisingly agreed. Uncle Vernon, meanwhile, only shrugged his beefy shoulders, muttering something about being able to catch the stock reports, and plowed onto his chunk of roast beef.
Petunia changed the channel as Harry started to dish up a small portion of mashed potatoes. He was halfway through his meal when he heard the news reader announce something that caught his attention.
"…In other news, Scotland Yard has taken over the investigation of some mysterious deaths in the town of Port Quin in Cornwall. They believe it is possible that the deaths there are related to the deaths of four people last summer in Bristol."
Harry snorted. They most certainly were related, as were the "mysterious" deaths in Canterbury, Winchester, Edinburgh, and the near annihilation of the small Scottish village of Blair Atholl.
Petunia turned and stared at him. He gave her a grim look in response. Then she looked away and bowed her head.
Vernon gave her a funny look. "Something wrong, dear?" he asked her.
"What?" She looked up, startled. "No. Just thinking that maybe I don't want the sun room to be canary."
"What do you suggest then?" he asked.
"Perhaps a blue or something. Sky blue." She forked a piece of broccoli and ate it. Uncle Vernon shrugged.
"So, did you have fun today, Diddy?" Aunt Petunia asked, changing subjects.
A sly smile spread across Dudley's face as he chewed a huge chunk of roast beef. He swallowed. "Yeah." His grin spread even wider. "I got myself a girlfriend today," he said proudly.
Harry dropped his fork in surprise. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were staring at their son. Then Uncle Vernon beamed. "Well done, Dudders."
"I didn't even know you fancied a girl," Aunt Petunia said, a smile working its way across her face. "Do we know her?"
Dudley shrugged. "Ever hear of Rhonda Benson?"
Uncle Vernon's jaw dropped. "Rhonda Benson? The daughter of investment banker Donald Benson, who just happens to be one of the wealthiest men in Surrey?"
Dudley nodded enthusiastically. "Yep."
Vernon looked incredibly euphoric. "Very good, Dudley! Way to pick them!"
Dudley shoved a great forkful of mashed potatoes in his mouth, grinning like mad.
That was when Harry pushed back his plate. The idea of Dudley having a girlfriend was truly nauseating. "I think I've have enough," he said, and excused himself from the table. As he walked up the stairs to his room, he couldn't help but think of Dudley with a girl on his fat arm. Closing his bedroom door, he couldn't help but think, How disgusting.