The Awakening — of Good and Evil

“Kill the spare!” Harry Potter heard a high, cold voice say.

A swishing noise and a second voice, which screeched the words to the night: “Avada Kedavra!”

 

(A/N: Cedric is dead, as you’ve all read what happened next, I’m skipping to when the duel between Harry James Potter and Tom Marvolo Riddle A.K.A. Lord Voldemort is going on. My apologies to those who haven’t actually read the books, and call themselves potter-heads solely on the basis of watching the movies.)

 

Harry crouched behind the headstone and knew that the end had come. There was no hope . . . no help to be had. And as he heard Voldemort draw nearer still, he knew one thing only, and it was beyond fear or reason: He was not going to die crouching here like a child playing hide-and-seek; he was not going to die kneeling at Voldemort’s feet . . . he was going to die upright like his father, and he was going to die trying to defend himself, even if no defense was possible. . .  .

Before Voldemort could stick his snakelike face around the headstone, Harry stood up . . . he gripped his wand tightly in his hand, thrust it out in front of him, and threw himself around the headstone, facing Voldemort.

Voldemort was ready. As Harry shouted “Expelliarmus!” Voldemort cried, “Avada Kedavra!”

 

(A/N: AND HERE MY STORY BEGINS...)

 

A jet of green light issued from Voldemort’s wand just as a jet of red light blasted from Harry’s — they met in midair — and suddenly Harry’s wand was vibrating as though an electric charge were surging through it; his hand seized up around it; he couldn’t have released it of he’d wanted to — and a narrow beam of light connected the two wands, neither red not green, but bright, deep gold. Harry, following the beam with his astonished gaze, saw that Voldemort’s long white fingers too were gripping a wand that was shaking and vibrating.

And then — nothing could have prepared Harry for this — he felt his feet lift from the ground. He and Voldemort were both being raised into the air, their wands still connected by the thread of shimmering golden light. They glided away from the tombstone of Voldemort’s father and then same to rest on a patch of ground that was clean and free of graves, where the body of Cedric Diggory lay, along with the Triwizard Cup, long forgotten . . . the Death Eaters were shouting; they were asking Voldemort for instructions; they were closing in, reforming the circle around Harry and Voldemort, the snake slithering at their heels, some of them drawing their wands —

The golden thread connecting Harry and Voldemort splintered; though the wands remained connected, a thousand more beams arced high over Harry and Voldemort, crisscrossing all around them, until they were enclosed — along with Cedric’s body and the Cup — in a golden, dome-shaped web, a cage of light, beyond which the Death Eaters circled like jackals, their cries now muffled, awaiting orders from Voldemort.

“Do nothing!” Voldemort shrieked. “Do nothing unless I command you!” Harry held onto his wand more tightly and fixed his gaze over Cedric’s body, which lay some three feet away from him. I have to do it for Cedric, he thought to himself.

And then an unearthly and beautiful sound filled the air . . . the phoenix song. It was the sound of hope to Harry . . . the most beautiful and welcome thing he had ever heard in his life . . . Along with it came a sound he connected with Dumbledore, and it was almost as though a friend were speaking in his ear. . . .

Don’t break the connection.

I know, Harry told the music. No sooner had he thought it, than the thing became much harder to do. His wand began to vibrate more powerfully than ever . . . and now the beam between him and Voldemort changed too . . . it was as though large beads of light were sliding up and down the thread connecting the wands — Harry felt his wand give a shudder under his hand as the light beads began to slide slowly and steadily his way. . . . The direction of the beam’s movement was now toward him, from Voldemort, and he felt is wand shudder angrily. . . .

As the closest bead of light moved nearer to Harry’s wand tip, the wood beneath his fingers grew so hot he feared it would burst into flame. The closer the bead moved, the harder Harry’s wand vibrated; he was sure his wand would not survive contact with it; it felt as though it was about to shatter under his fingers —

He concentrated every last particle of his mind upon forcing the bead back toward Voldemort, his ears full of phoenix song, his eyes furious, fixed on the bead, and on Cedric’s body — as though drawing motivation from it — and slowly, very slowly, the beads quivered to a halt, and then, just as slowly, they began to move the other way . . . and it was Voldemort’s wand that was vibrating extra-hard now. . . . Voldemort who looked astonished, and almost fearful . . .

One of the beads of light was quivering, inches from the tip of Voldemort’s wand. Harry didn’t understand why he was doing it, didn’t know what it might achieve . . . but he now concentrated as he had never done in his life on forcing that bead of light right back into Voldemort’s wand . . . and slowly . . . very slowly . . . it moved along the thread . . . it trembled for a moment . . . and then it connected. . . .

Right in front of Harry’s eyes, Cedric’s body vanished, as if it had never been there. Voldemort’s wand began to emit echoing screams of pain — the screams of Death Eaters when Cruciatus Curse was used on them. Then — Voldemort’s eyes widened with shock — a hand flew out of the tip and fell onto the ground with a clunk — the hand he had made for Wormtail . . . more shouts of pain —Harry’s screams . . . and then something large began to blossom from Voldemort’s wand tip, a head . . . now a chest and arms . . . the torso of Cedric Diggory.

Harry held on to his wand tightly, the thread of golden light remain unbroken. Cedric emerged in his entirety from the end of Voldemort’s wand, as though he was squeezing himself out of a very narrow tunnel . . . and Cedric stood up, very much alive, and looked up and down the golden thread of light, and spoke.

“Hold on, Harry,” he said.

Harry looked at Voldemort . . . his wide red eyes were still shocked . . . he had no more expected this than Harry had . . . after all, no one had expected the dead to return to life.

More screams of pain . . . and then something, or rather someone else emerged from the wand tip . . . a second head, quickly followed by the arms and torso . . . the old man Harry had seen in his dream was now pushing himself out of the wand just as Cedric had done . . . and surveyed Harry and Voldemort, and the golden web, and the connected wands, with mild surprise, leaning on his walking stick. . . .

“He was a real wizard, then?” the old man said, his eyes resting on Voldemort. “Killed me . . . that one did. . . . You fight him, boy. . . .”

Yet another head was emerging, one of a woman . . . Bertha Jorkins surveyed the battle with wide eyes.

“Don’t let go, now!” she cried. “Don’t let him get you, Harry — don’t let go!”

And now another head was emerging from the tip of Voldemort’s wand . . . and Harry knew when he saw who it would be . . . he knew, as though he had expected it from the moment when Cedric had appeared from the wand . . . knew, because the woman was one he’d thought of more than any other tonight . . .

A young woman with long dark-red hair fell to the ground as Bertha had done, straightened up, and looked at him . . . and Harry, his arms shaking madly now, looked back into the face of his mother, who had died fourteen years back, and now stood very much alive in front of him.

“Harry!” she whispered. “Your father’s coming . . . Hold on for your father . . . it will be alright . . . hold on . . .”

And he came . . . first his head, then his body . . . tall and untidy-haired like Harry, James Potter blossomed from the end of Voldemort’s wand, fell to the ground, and straightened like his wife.

He grinned at him, and Harry felt a sudden boost of energy into him. “That’s my boy!” his father said. “When the connection is broken,” he told Harry and the others who had woken up from dead, “we must grab the Portkey. It will return us to Hogwarts . . . do you understand, Harry?”

“Yes,” Harry gasped, fighting now to keep a hold on this wand, which was slipping and sliding beneath his fingers.

Meanwhile, James, Lily and Cedric threw hexes the Death Eaters around them, and Bertha explained the working of a portkey to the muggle.

“On three Harry, you’ll break the bond, and I’ll accio the Portkey!” his father yelled.

All of them gathered around Harry. “One — Two — Three ­—­ NOW!”

Harry pulled his wand upward with an almighty wrench, and the golden thread broke; the cage of light vanished, the phoenix song died.

“ACCIO!” his father yelled, pointing his wand at the Triwizard Cup.

It flew into the air and soared toward them. Everyone grasped it —

Harry heard Voldemort’s scream of fury at the same moment he felt the jerk behind his navel that meant the Portkey had worked ­— it was speeding them away in a whirl of wind and color . . . They were going back.

Minister’s Rants

 Harry felt himself slam into the ground; his face was pressed into the grass; the small of it filled its nostrils. He kept his eyes closed. He did not move. All the breath seemed to been knocked out of him; his head was swimming so badly he felt as though the ground beneath him were swaying like a deck of a ship.

He felt a soft hand on his shoulder, his mother’s hand. He shut his eyes even more tightly, as though on opening them he would find his parents and Cedric gone.

A torrent of sound deafened and confused him; there were voices everywhere, footsteps. . . .

“Harry! Harry!” It was Hermione. “Harry, why are there two of you?”

“Hello Professor Dumbledore. I think you might be able to recognize me even after a long time of being dead!” he heard his father saying.

“James?” Dumbledore was dumbfounded.

“He’s back,” Harry shouted. “He’s back. Voldemort.”

“What’s going on? What’s happened?”

The face of Cornelius Fudge appeared upside down over Harry, it looked white, appalled.

“My God — James — Lily!” it whispered. “Dumbledore — they’re supposed to be dead!”

The words repeated, the shadowy figures pressing in on them gasped it to those around them . . . and then others shouted it — screeched it — into the night — “Potters are alive!” “They’re alive!” “James and Lily! Alive!”

“Bertha Jorkins?” Fudge asked.

“You-Know-Who’s back!” she whispered.

“Harry will need to go to the hospital wing!” Fudge was saying loudly as Dumbledore was talking to James and Lily.

“I’ll take Harry, Dumbledore, I’ll take him —”

“No, I would prefer —”                            

“Harry, stay here —” he heard Dumbledore say.

(A/N: I will prefer not to repeat the scene where Moody takes him to the office, and then reveals the truth under Veritaserum, so to the time Dumbledore is taking Harry back to his office!)

 “I want you to come up to my office, Harry,” he said quietly as they headed up the passageway. “Sirius and the rest are waiting for us there.”

Harry nodded.

Dumbledore helped him to reach the stone gargoyle. Dumbledore gave the password, it sprang aside, and he and Harry went up the moving spiral staircase to the oak door. Dumbledore pushed it open. Sirius was standing there, his face white and gaunt.

“Harry, are you all right? I knew it — I knew something like this — what happened?”

His hands shook as he helped Harry into a chair in front of the desk.

“Sirius, I want you to meet some people, who, under some strange circumstances, have been restored to life. Harry here will explain later, what exactly happened.”

As if on cue, James and Lily entered the room from the door leading to Headmaster’s private quarters.

“Prongs?” a surprised Sirius asked as happiness flooded through his eyes for a splitting second. The moment passed. “Who the hell are you? Thinking it is funny to —”

“Padfoot! It’s really us!” James said.

“Turn into Prongs, if you even know what I mean,” Sirius stated.

Immediately, with a flick of wand, James vanished. In his place stood a beautiful stag with peculiar markings around its eyes.

Sirius seemed satisfied. With a gleeful scream, he plunged himself on top of James who had now turned back to his usual self.

“James! Ho — Wh ­— Never mind! I never thought I’d live to see you again!”

“Lily-flower!” he went and hugged Lily. James joined the group hug. Dumbledore nudged Harry to go to his parents.

Lily hugged Harry as if there would never be a next time. “Oh! My baby has grown up so much! He looks so much like you James.”

“But he has your eyes!” James whispered, hugging his son as well.

“So I’ve been told before,” Harry grinned.

“What am I? Chopped liver?” Sirius whined. Harry went over and hugged him as well.

“Where’s Moony?” James asked.

“Must be somewhere,” Sirius replied, grinning. He looked as if he had become twenty years younger in presence of James and Lily.

“Ah, sorry to interrupt your family moment,” Dumbledore spoke, chuckling, “Harry here has some explanation to do.”

“The Wizard of Oz . . . always spoils the moment,” Sirius said, whining.

“If I’m right Sirius, which I firmly believe I am, it was you who was eager to listen to Harry’s experience,” Dumbledore chuckled.

“Okay, what happened?” Sirius asked seriously. (A/N: No pun intended)

Dumbledore began to tell them everything Barty Crouch had said. Harry was only half listening. He was so tired every bone in his body was aching.

There was a soft rush of wings. Fawkes the phoenix had left his perch, flown across the offices, and landed on Harry’s knee.

“ ’Lo, Fawkes,” said Harry quietly. He stroked the phoenix’s beautiful scarlet-and-gold plumage.

“I need to know what happened after you touched the Portkey in the maze, Harry,” said Dumbledore. He asked Sirius to change back to his animagus form and called Cedric, Bertha and the old muggle in his office.

Reluctantly, Harry raised his head, took a deep breath and began to tell them. As he spoke, visions of everything that had passed that night seemed to rise above his eyes; he saw the sparkling surface of the potion that had revived Voldemort; he saw the Death Eaters Apparating between the graves around them; he saw Cedric’s body, lying on the ground beside the cup.

When Harry told of Wormtail piercing his arm with dagger, James let out a vehement exclamation, Sirius growled barring his teeth and Dumbledore stood up so quickly that Harry started. He told Harry to stretch out his arm. Harry showed them both the place where his robes were torn and the cut beneath them.

“He said my blood would make his stronger than if he’d used someone else’s,” Harry told Dumbledore. “He said the protection my —” he looked up to Lily, “­— my mother — left in me — he’d have it too. And he was right — he could touch me without hurting himself, he touched my face.”

“Ah, that doesn’t matter now does it?” Dumbledore smiled. For a fleeting second, apart from happiness, he saw a gleam of something like triumph in Dumbledore’s eyes. “Your mother — Lily — is now back, so the protection won’t work. Harry, continue, please.”

Harry went on; he explained how Voldemort had emerged from the cauldron, and told them all he could remember of Voldemort’s speech to the Death Eaters. Then he told how Voldemort had untied him, returned his wand, and prepared to duel.

He told, rather gleefully, about the golden beam of light that had connected his and Voldemort’s wands. He could see Cedric emerging; see the old man, Bertha Jorkins . . . his father . . . his mother . . .

His father broke the silence. “The wands connected?” he said, looking from Harry to Dumbledore. “Why?” He quickly added, rather cheekily, “Not that I am complaining. It’s good to be . . . um . . . alive again!”

“Priori Incantatem,” Dumbledore muttered.

“The Reverse Spell effect?” Lily asked.

“Exactly,” said Dumbledore. He went on to explain the shared core between the two wands — Priori Incantatem — which reverses the recent spells cast by the wand in reverse order, starting with the latest and going to the oldest.

(A/N: I’m not writing that part in detail here, you’ve read it before.)

Harry suddenly became aware that Fawkes had left his knee. The phoenix had fluttered to the floor. It was resting its beautiful head against Harry’s injured leg, and thick, pearly tears were falling from its eyes onto the wound left by the spider in the maze. The pain vanished. The skin mended. His leg was repaired.

“Healing powers of Phoenix tears,” whispered Cedric. “Professor Dumbledore?” he said.

“Yes?”

“Sir, I’m of age now, and I’ve seen him return. I want to join you against You-Know-Who, please.”

“Are you sure Cedric? Once you are a part of people against him, there is no turning back. And let me tell you, the dangers you might face will be much worse than the supervised ones we had in the Triwizard Tournament, and that too turned out to be unsafe,” Dumbledore said.

“I’ve died once, and I’m ready to do it again to make this world a better place,” Cedric politely but firmly stated.

“Alright Mr. Diggory. You’ll follow us to the hospital wing then,” said Dumbledore. To the muggle who had introduced himself as Frank Bryce, he said, “I’m afraid I cannot let you go live where you had spent your life, purely for the reasons of your safety.”

“You are good people,” the old man said. “You will fight the bad man who killed me. I do not know magic, but I will live with you. I will be your servant. I know how to cook and clean, and trim gardens.”

“Dumbledore, I want to join you as well,” Bertha stated. “I can be your spy at the ministry.”

“Very good,” Albus Dumbledore said. “Welcome then, to the Order of the Phoenix. I must state this, I have full trust over every single person in the Order, and I believe you will trust each other as well. Please do not let earlier differences come in way of your unity, which is what we require the most to conquer Voldemort.” He cast a meaningful glance at James and Sirius.

He further spoke, “You have shown bravery beyond anything I could have expected of you tonight, Harry. You have shown bravery equal to those who died fighting Voldemort at the height of his powers. You have shouldered a grown wizard’s burden and found yourself equal to it — and you have now given us all what we have a right to expect. You will come with me to the hospital wing, as will the others I suppose. A Sleeping Potion and some peace . . .” he paused. “I’m afraid I cannot say how the Ministry is going to take the news of Voldemort’s return. Ms. Jorkins, I must ask you to go find Cornelius now and try to gain his full trust. You will not speak of today’s events unless asked, and must speak only of what you saw, not what Harry or I told you. You must not cross what Cornelius says, and must agree to whatever he says, stating that you might have been confounded and mistaken some Death Eater as You-Know-Who, should such a situation arise.”

Bertha gave him a solemn nod.

“I must also add, what we discussed today should not leave this room. I trust you all for this. Now, off you go Ms. Jorkins.”

She nodded and walked away. Everyone else stood up as well and walked with Harry and Dumbledore out of the office, accompanying them down a flight of stairs to the hospital wing.

When Dumbledore pushed open the door, Harry saw Mrs. Weasley, Bill, Ron and Hermione grouped around a harassed-looking Madam Pomfrey. They appeared to be demanding where Harry was and what has happened to him. All of them whipped around as Harry, Dumbledore, rest of the group and a black dog entered, and Mrs. Weasley let out a kind of muffled scream.

“Harry! Oh Harry!” she started to hurry toward him.

“Still as fussy as ever, Molly?” James grinned.

Mrs. Weasley glared to see who had spoken up. Then, seeing James and Lily, rushed forward to give them a big hug.

“Molly,” Dumbledore said, “please listen to me for a moment. Harry has been through a lot tonight. What he needs now is sleep, and peace, and quiet. If he would like you all to stay with him,” he added looking around at everyone present in the room, “you may do so. But I do not want you questioning him. James and Lily will answer everything for him.”

Before Madam Pomfrey could question him, he said, “This dog will be remaining with Harry for a while. I assure you, he is extremely well trained.” At this, James grinned at Sirius, muttering under his breath. “Harry — I will wait while you go to bed. I will be back to see you as soon I have met with Fudge. And I would like you and Cedric to remain here tomorrow until I have spoken to the school. And Poppy, I think Sleeping Draught will do some good to Mr. Diggory here as well.”

Cedric knew better than to protest, and soon, he and Harry were fast asleep.

 

Harry woke up to the whispering around him.

“They’ll wake him if they don’t shut up!”

“What are they shouting about? Nothing else can have happened, can it?”

Harry opened his eyes and put his glasses on. Cedric had already woken up and was sitting propped up on pillows in the bed next to him.

“That’s Fudge’s voice,” Mrs. Weasley whispered. “And that’s Minerva McGonagall’s, isn’t it? But what are they arguing about?”

Now Harry could hear them too: people shouting and running toward the hospital wing.

“Regrettable, but all the same, Minerva —” Cornelius Fudge was saying loudly.

“You should never have brought it inside the castle!” yelled Professor McGonagall. “When Dumbledore finds out —”

The hospital doors burst open. Fudge came striding up the ward. Professor McGonagall and Snape were at his heels.

“Where’s Dumbledore?” Fudge demanded of Mrs. Weasley.

“He’s not here,” said Mrs. Weasley angrily. “This is a hosp—”

The door opened and Dumbledore came sweeping up the ward.

“What had happened?” said Dumbledore sharply, looking from Fudge to McGonagall. “Why are you disturbing these people? Minerva, I’m surprised at you — I asked you to stand guard over Barty Crouch —”

“There is no such need to stand guard over him anymore, Dumbledore!” she shrieked. “The Minister has seen to that!”

“When we told Mr. Fudge that what had caught the Death Eater responsible for tonight’s events,” said Snape in a low voice, “he seemed to feel his personal safety was in question. He insisted on summoning a dementor to accompany him into the castle. He brought it up to the office where Barty Crouch —”

“I told him you would not agree, Dumbledore!” Professor McGonagall fumed. “I told him you would never allow dementors to set foot inside the castle, but —”

“My dear woman!” roared Fudge, “as Minister of Magic, it is my decision whether I wish to bring protection with me when interviewing a possibly dangerous —”

But McGonagall’s voice drowned Fudge’s.

“The moment that — thing entered the room,” she screamed, pointing at Fudge, trembling all over, “it swooped down on Crouch and — and —”

Harry did not need her to finish the sentence. The dementor had administered his fatal kiss to Barty Crouch, and had sucked his soul away. He was worse than dead.

“By no accounts, he is no loss!” blustered Fudge.

“But he cannot give testimony now, Cornelius,” said Dumbledore.

“Well, there’s no mystery to it, is it? He was a raving lunatic! From what Minerva and Severus have told him, he seems to have thought he was doing it all on You-Know-Who’s instructions!”

“Lord Voldemort was giving him instructions, Cornelius,” Dumbledore said. “Those people’s deaths were mere by-products of a plan to restore Voldemort to his full strength again. The plan succeeded. Voldemort has been restored to his body.”

Fudge looked as though someone had slapped him in the face. “You-Know-Who . . . returned? Preposterous. Come on, Dumbledore . . .”

“As Minerva and Severus have doubtless told you,” said Dumbledore, “we heard Barty Crouch confess. Under the influence of Veritaserum, he told us how he was smuggled out of Azkaban, and how Voldemort —learning of his continued existence from Bertha Jorkins — went to free him from his father and used him to capture Harry. The plan worked. Crouch has helped Voldemort to return.”

“You — you can’t seriously believe that. . . . Certainly Crouch may have believed himself to be acting on You-Know-Who’s orders ­— but —”

“When we touched the Triwizard Cup tonight, I and Harry were transported straight to Voldemort,” Cedric said. “He killed me.”

“I see you very much alive, Mr. Diggory.” Fudge spoke.

“That was because something happened between our wands . . . mine and Voldemort’s . . . which revived Cedric, Bertha, Frank, my . . . mum and dad!” Harry spoke up.

Ron, Hermione, Mrs. Weasley, Bill, James and Lily jumped. None of them had realized that Harry was awake.

Fudge’s face wore a curious smile. “You are — er — prepared to Take Harry’s word on this, are you, Dumbledore?”

“Certainly, I believe Harry,” said Dumbledore. His eyes were blazing now. “I heard Crouch’s confession, and I heard Harry and Cedric’s account of what happened after they touched the Triwizard Cup; the two stories make sense, they explain everything that happened since Bertha Jorkins disappeared last summer. Along with that, I have listened to the account of James and Lily Potter, this muggle man Frank Bryce, and Bertha Jorkins.”

Fudge still had that strange smile on his face. “You are prepared to believe that Lord Voldemort has returned, on the word of a lunatic murderer, a boy who believes he had been killed by You-Know-Who, two imposters who say they are a couple that had died fourteen years ago, a muggle, and a boy who . . . well . . .”

“You’ve been reading Rita Skeeter, Mr. Fudge,” Harry quietly said as he understood what Fudge was implying.

Fudge reddened slightly, but spoke up, “And if I have?” he said, looking at Dumbledore.

“Listen to me, Minister. Or should I say a Junior Assistant of Vice-Head of the Auror Department, as you were in my time, Cornelius.” James Potter spoke up, shooting him a deathly glare. “I am the same James Potter who appointed you as my Jr. Assistant. Same person who told you that you have fallen in love with the wrong man, Malfoy is a Death Eater, same person who helped you out of an illegal business with the goblins — should I continue Fudge . . . er . . . Minister.”

Everyone laughed as Fudge went redder and redder with every word James spoke.

“James, you forgot the time when dear old Fudge was pranked by Sirius Black who had turned his hair pink and he had been dressed in nothing but pink underwear, so he had to take leave from ministry for two days!” Lily added, sneering at the Minister.

“You’re imposters! All this is a lie!” Fudge roared.

“May I ask, Minister, why have you gone all red then?” Minerva McGonagall asked innocently.

“I fully believe that these two people are James and Lily Potter, returned to life by a rare event, Priori Incantatem. I believe you have heard about that before, Cornelius.” Dumbledore asked. “Yet, if you have any doubts, you can check them under Veritaserum. I think they will have no problem with that.”

“None at all, Dumbledore,” James said.

Fudge looked defeated, he still spoke “Come on Dumbledore . . . you atleast know that we cannot use Veritaserum for small things like this!”

“Small things?” Harry shouted. “Look, I saw Voldemort come back! I saw the Death Eaters! I can give you their names! Lucius Malfoy —”

“Malfoy was cleared!” said Fudge, visibly affronted. “A very old family — donations to excellent causes — I know boy, you’ll merely repeat the names of those who were acquitted of being Death Eaters thirteen years ago!” said Fudge angrily. “For heaven’s sake Dumbledore — the boy was full of some crackpot story at the end of last year too —his tales are getting taller, and you’re still swallowing them ­— the boy can talk to snakes, Dumbledore, and you still think he’s trustworthy? It seems to me that you all are determined to start a panic that will destabilize everything we have worked for these last thirteen years!”

“Voldemort has returned,” Dumbledore repeated.

“And Bertha Jorkins has admitted to me that she might have been confounded and believed some random Death Eater to be You-Know-Who. She had been held captive at that place for large part of a year now! And she, unlike you all, will be rewarded for telling the truth. I will take her under my own wing.”

Harry saw the ghost of a smile on Dumbledore’s lips. Bertha had played her part well.

“If your determination to shut your eyes and the love for your office will carry you as far as this, Cornelius,” said Dumbledore, “we have reached a parting of the ways. You must act as what you see fit. And I — I shall act as I see fit.”

“I’ve given you a free rein always, Dumbledore. I’ve had a lot of respect for you. But if you’re going to work against me —”

“The only one against whom I intend to work,” said Dumbledore “is Voldemort. If you are against him, then we remain, Cornelius, on the same side.”

It seemed Fudge could think no answer to this. He rocked backward and forward on his small feet for a moment and spun his bowler hat in his hands. Finally, he said, with a hint of plea in his voice, “He can’t be back, Dumbledore, he just can’t be . . .”

Snape strode forward, past Dumbledore, putting up the left sleeve of his robe as he went. We struck out his forearm and showed it to Fudge, who recoiled.

“There,” said Snape harshly. “There. The Dark Mark. It is not as clear as it was an hour or so ago, when it burned black, but you can still see it. Every Death Eater had the sign burned into him by the Dark Lord. It was a means of distinguishing one another, and his means of summoning us to him. When he touched the Mark of any Heath Eater, we were to Disapparate, and Apparate, instantly, at his side. This Mark has been growing clear all year. Karkaroff’s too. Why do you think Karkaroff fled tonight? We both felt the Mark burn. We both knew he had returned. Karkaroff fears the Dark Lord’s vengeance. He betrayed too many of his fellow Death Eaters to be sure of a welcome back into the fold.”

Fudge stepped back from Snape too. He was shaking his head. He did not seem to have taken in a word Snape had said. He stared, apparently repelled by the ugly mark in Snape’s arm, then looked up at Dumbledore and whispered, “I don’t know what you and your staff are playing at, Dumbledore, but I have heard enough. I have just this to add: ask your people imposing as the Potters to stop this act, or I’ll have to turn them to Azkaban. I will be in touch with you tomorrow, Dumbledore, to discuss the running of this school. I must return to the Ministry.”

He had almost reached the door when he paused. He turned around, strode back down the dormitory, and stopped in between Harry and Cedric’s bed.

“Your winnings,” he said shortly, taking a large bag of gold out of his pocked and dropping it on Cedric’s bedside table. “One thousand Galleons. Five hundred each. There should have been a presenting ceremony, but under these circumstances . . .” He turned to Dumbledore, “And I might add that this Diggory boy should be transferred to St. Mungo’s immediately. He is not in his state of mind.”

Sirius growled at him barring his teeth.

He crammed his bowler hat on his head and walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him. The moment he had disappeared, Dumbledore turned to look at the group at Harry and Cedric’s bed.

After sending Bill, McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey away to do assigned tasks, and making sure that the door was locked, Dumbledore spoke again.

“And now,” he said, “it is time for some of our number to recognize each other for what they are. Sirius . . . if you could resume your usual form.”

The great black dog, in an instant, turned into a man. Several things happened at once afterwards.

Mrs. Weasley screamed. “Sirius Black!” she shrieked, pointing at him, as Ron calmed her down.

Snape, who had not reacted as violently, gave him a look of mingled fury and horror. “Him,” he snarled, staring at Sirius. “What is he doing here?”

Frank Bryce shouted, “I KNOW HIM! I saw him on television, he’s a prison break!”

One person who had neither been a part of the group who helped Sirius escape, nor had been dead for more than fourteen years, but still was calm and collected, was Cedric Diggory. He had meant it when he said he would trust anyone Dumbledore trusted.

Meanwhile, Sirius grinned at James and Lily, “Welcome to the group of people trying to run away from Azkaban!”

“Azkaban?” James and Lily frowned.

“Yeah, for selling you out to Voldy!”

“But you did not! It was that old rat Pettigrew!” James shouted angrily.

This caught everyone’s attention.

“You mean to say he did not . . . Oh my God!” Molly Weasley whispered.

“I tried to tell people the same thing for fourteen years, nobody believed. And Prongs here said it once, you take his word! How justified.” Sirius stated.

Even Snape had looked aghast.

“If that is settled,” Lily spoke up, “May I ask what a Death Eater is doing amidst us?” She glared her old best-friend with a look of pure hatred.

“Listen!” Dumbledore said, silencing everyone. “Both Sirius and Severus are here at my invitation. I trust both of them. It is time for everyone to lay aside old differences and trust each other.”

“Now I have work for both of you. Fudge’s attitude, though not unexpected, changes everything. Though I must say, Ms. Jorkins played her part well. Sirius, I need you to set off at once. You are to alert Remus Lupin, Arabella Figg, Mundungus Fletcher — the old crowd. Lie low at Lupins for a while; I will contact you there. And take this good old man with you,” he said, pointing to Frank Bryce.

Sirius bade a goodbye to the Potters, transformed again into a black dog, and went away followed by Mr. Bryce.

“Severus,” said Dumbledore, turning to Snape, “you know what I must ask you to do. If you’re ready . . . if you are prepared. . .”

“I am,” said Snape.

“Then good luck,” said Dumbledore. After a few minutes, he spoke again. “I must go downstairs and leave you to take some rest Harry, and family reunion I suppose,” said Dumbledore.

“Headmaster —” Cedric spoke. “I will come with you. I must say goodbye to my parents. I, too, am ready for any task you have for me.”

“Ah! Hop along then.”

“Back to his crazy old self,” James grinned as Dumbledore went away with his arm on Cedric’s shoulder.

“Dad!” Harry scolded.

“You know, I’m still waiting to be called ‘mum’ by you!” Lily said, smiling.

“Oh mum!” Harry hugged her.

“Hey! Cedric left the prize money here only,” said Ron.

“Ronald Weasley!” Hermione glared at him.

“These are my two best friends, mum and dad! Hermione,” Harry said looking at the brown haired witch, “and Ron!” he finished, turning to the redhead.

“Pleasure to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Potter,” Hermione said shaking James’ hand.

Lily pulled her into a hug. “Call us James and Lily, dear.”

“I’m Ron. Ron Weasley,” Ron said.

“Oh! I remember you, you were a little, pink, freckled baby when we —” Lily said.

Ron blushed as everyone laughed, exempting Lily from completing the sentence. James pulled her into a hug.

“Look, here’s a note,” Harry spoke up, looking at the note placed by the winnings.

Harry,

Thank you for saving my life. Or should I say returning me to life? I owe my life to you now. And you are the true Triwizard Champion. I would not have been able to duel Voldemort for even a second, as was proved today. But I’ll dedicate this life into making the world a better place to live in. Keep the winnings — you are the one who deserves them. And don’t try to return them back, or I’ll hex you into oblivion. You might be a better dueler, but I still have three years’ worth of knowledge more than you. Again, thanks for everything.

Cedric

P.S. I won’t be coming back to Hogwarts for now, so, as a last favour to me, if you can, please tell Cho that I really liked her. She should go make new boyfriends, because I’m at your service now, which most probably means Dumbledore’s — the crazy old man — the Wizard of Oz!! Tell her I’ll meet her soon if possible.

Harry had tears in his eyes, yet could not help but smile at Cedric’s humor as he finished the note. He passed it on for the others to read it.

“Blimey! When d’you reckon he wrote this?” Ron asked.

“No idea,” Harry replied, feeling tired.

“Your potion, Harry,” said Mrs. Weasley quickly, as she saw his sleepy stature.

Harry drank it in one gulp. The effect was instantaneous. Heavy, irresistible waves of dreamless sleep broke over him; he fell back onto the pillow and thought no more.

Catching Up

 

For the second time that day, Harry found himself waking up to the sound of whispering.

“D’you reckon he’s even alive? He’s been sleeping like a log for three hours straight!” he heard Ron say.

“RON!” Hermione whisper-yelled, smacking him at the back of his head.

“I can’t make up my mind on whether you’re more like Lily or Molly, Hermione,” his father said. Harry could already see him grinning widely.

“A mixture of both, I suppose,” Harry said, startling everyone, as he reached for his glasses, yawning.

“Good you’re up! Mind having a chocolate frog?” James asked.

“James! He has just woken up,” Lily yelled, hitting him on the back of his head, not unlike what Hermione had done to Ron a few moments ago. Harry could already hear wedding bells going inside his head. He grinned at the thought.

“What’re you laughing at?” his father asked.

“Nothing!” he said, a bit too quickly. “Can’t tell,” he said shooting a meaningful look at his two best friends and then at his father, who grinned in turn.

“Okay . . . mind telling us a bit about your life, son? We’ve unfortunately missed a large part of it.”

“Sure thing,” Harry replied.

“Hang on,” said Lily. “Dumbledore said instead of listening, we can actually see it in the pensieve.”

“That’ll definitely be better,” Harry said. “I wonder why he asked me to narrate yesterday’s incident to him when he could have seen it directly.”

“Isn’t that obvious?” Hermione spoke up. “He didn’t want you to literally live through all that again!”

“Wait a minute,” James said. “You’re smart —”

“—a muggle born —” Harry added, already knowing where this was going.

“—bad tempered —” James added.

“—clever —” Harry said.

“—rule abiding —” James said.

“I wouldn’t be too sure of that,” muttered Ron.

“—so that means you’re perfect Lily Evans-II” James finished, ignoring Ron’s comment.

“Is it just me,” Mrs. Weasley spoke up, “or are Harry and James actually behaving like Fred and George?”

“You’re right mum! They’re even completing each other’s sentences . . . and they definitely look a lot alike,” Ron spoke up.

Meanwhile, Hermione was torn between looking angry, flattered or pleased.

“I’ll be going home now, I’ve been here too long,” Mrs. Weasley said, standing up. She gave everyone present there a big Molly Weasley hug each, kissed Ron, Hermione and Harry (A/N: on their cheeks) and went away.

“So should we go to the Room of Requirement?” Harry asked. “I can’t think of a better place to do the task of catching up.

James did not know whether to look pleased or jealous. Settling on pleased, he spoke up, “You know about the Room of Requirement? I came to know of that in my seventh year.”

“Let’s go then,” Lily said.

“Um... can we call Sirius or Remus as well? Probably both, because . . . there might be some . . . er . . . disturbing situations. Also, Ron and Hermione can come alright?” Harry spoke.

He could already feel anger welling up inside James, who gave a single nod, not trusting himself to words right now.

“I’ll go get the pensieve, and ask Dumbledore to floo Professor Lupin,” Hermione stated.

“P-Prof-fessor L-Lupin? As in Remus Lupin?” James asked, choking. The serious moment had passed, and Harry could not feel more pleased.

Hermione nodded.

“I knew it! I knew Moony had it in him! Padfoot owes me five galleons,” he said doing a mini war-dance.

Everyone laughed.

“I’ll get going then,” said Hermione.

“I’ll come with you,” Ron said, obviously wanting to get out of being in an awkward situation amidst a reunited family. “Here,” he said passing on the Invisibility Cloak to Harry. “You won’t want the — ahem — the imposters — to get caught!” He said nodding over to James and Lily.

“For the first time in your life, Ron,” said Hermione, “you’ve done something which is not stupid.”

Ron’s ears went red.

“Actually ‘Mione,” Harry began, thinking deeply, “I reckon it’s the second time.”

James doubled up with laughter. Even Lily couldn’t help but give a small smile.

As Ron and Hermione made their way to Dumbledore’s office, Harry, with his parents hidden under the Invisibility Cloak, started for the Room of Requirement.

“So what were you thinking and laughing at, which you couldn’t tell in front of Weasley and Lily Jr.?” his father asked in an empty hallway.

“I have a feeling down my gut that those two will end up together,” Harry replied, controlling his laughter.

“Yeah, me too,” his father said.

As Harry opened the door to the Room of Requirement, they found themselves in a cozy place with couches and chairs and a table, all in vibrant red and gold.

“So Harry, you’re a Gryffindor?” his mother asked, shedding off the cloak.

“Yeah mum,” he replied.

“I told you Lils, my son is a true Gryffindor like me!” Harry did not feel like telling him that the Sorting Hat had nearly put him in Slytherin.

“I’m going to go freshen up a bit,” Lily said, leaving father and son alone.

“Um . . . dad?” Harry spoke up. “In which year did you and your friends become animagi?”

“Ah! It took us three years, but we had perfected it in our fifth year,” James replied.

“Well . . . um . . . willyouteachmehowtobecomeone?” Harry asked him.

“Whoa there, slow down son.”

“Will you teach me how to become one?” Harry repeated, almost in a whisper.

“Of course! I thought Padfoot had already taught you the art of becoming an animagus.”

“He didn’t.”

“Don’t worry prongslet, now I’m here . . . and I’m going to make you a true marauder,” James replied, rubbing his palms in glee.

“I don’t know much about pranking, dad,” Harry said. “Between Voldemort after me, and detentions from Snape, and sometimes the others, I don’t have time for that. But the Weasley twins are surely the biggest pranksters in the school. Their aim is to open a joke shop in Diagon Alley. They’re pretty good at it too.”

“Hmm . . .”

“Dad?” Harry spoke up again. “Cedric’s not gonna take any of that money we won. I don’t need it. I had decided to give it all to Fred and George if I got it, for their joke shop funding, because in these times what we all need is a few laughs. Do you and mum mind that?”

“Not at all, son. Not at all!” James replied.

“Oh! You’ve grown up so much, Harry,” he heard his mother say from behind. “I’m sorry you had to grow up without us, and we left you alone as a baby.”

“It’s not your fault, mum. It’s all Voldemort’s fault. Just don’t do it again,” Harry said, sighing.

“Never, my boy,” James said.

The door to Room of Requirement opened.

“Moony!” James yelled, as he launched himself on the top of his old school friend to greet him.

“Hi . . . Prongs . . . can’t . . . breathe,” Remus Lupin replied, grinning as well.

“Oh, sorry! How’re you coping up with your furry little problem, eh?” James asked.

“Fine, I guess,” Remus replied, making his way over to Lily to greet her.

“Hey Lily, how’re you doing?” he asked.

“I’m great. Good to see you, Remus!” Lily said, smiling.

“And . . . that reminds me . . . Padfoot?” James cheerfully cried.

“Yeah?” Sirius said.

“My five galleons?”

“Which five galleons?”

“Told you Moony is going to be a teacher!” James spoke up.

“Oi!” Remus spoke up, looking at Harry, Ron and Hermione. “Which of you three told him I taught you? Now I’m never going to live another day in peace.”

“Of course not!” James said, grinning widely. “So Harry, did your Godfather look after you well?”

This shut everyone up.

“I . . . uh . . . well . . . did not live with Sirius,” Harry said.

“Told you, mate,” Sirius sighed, “I was in Azkaban.”

Before James could get enraged again, he spoke up, “I’ll come back to this part later. Especially, how on earth did you escape the bloody prison! First, let me get to know more about my son.”

“So . . . you lived with Remus?”

Harry shook his head.

“Weasleys’?”

“No.”

“Dumbledore?”

“No.”

“Then where did that crazy old fool send you to?” James asked, now angry.

“T-The D-Du-Dursleys,” Harry meekly replied.

“You’re scaring him, James,” Remus said.

“The DURSLEYS?” James shouted. “Dumbledore made you live with Dursleys?”

“Dursleys? As in my sister Petunia, and that pathetic excuse of a man, Vernon? And their pig of a son Dudley?” Lily asked in a low and collected voice. She, in fact, scared those present in the room more than James.

“Did they mistreat you?” James asked.

“That’s putting it lightly,” Harry spoke. “Please don’t get angry, mum and dad. It’s past now.”

“They will pay for this,” Lily spoke in a low, dangerous voice.

“Show us your memories of your time there, Harry. We’ll make sure they suffer for each time they mistreated you,” James said seething.

 (A/N: The memories will be the ones in italics.)

Harry extracted the silvery-white threads from his head using his wand, and put them in the pensieve.

Each person present in the room one by one went inside the pensieve. They found themselves crammed inside a very tight space, where three year old Harry Potter was sleeping on a blanket.

“Where are we?” Sirius asked.

“Inside my cupboard,” Harry spoke.

“THEY MADE MY SON SLEEP IN A CUPBOARD?” James yelled.

“Calm down, dad,” Harry spoke. “I no longer fit in there now.”

A rapt knocking on the door woke baby Harry up. He rubbed his eyes to make the sleepiness go away.

“GET UP, boy!” Uncle Vernon roared from outside. “My shoes?”

Harry quickly got up, picked up a cloth, shoe-polish, brush and went to polish his uncle’s shoes.

“THEY MADE YOU POLISH SHOES?” It was Sirius who yelled this time.

“That’s the beginning,” Harry said quietly.

“Unc-le Vewnon?” Harry spoke up.

“Quick! I don’t have all day,” he shouted.

“But, it’s my biwthday,” Harry said, excited. “Where awe my pwesents?”

“Ha! YOUR Presents?” Vernon screeched. “Freaks like you don’t get presents. Go help your aunt in the kitchen.”

“Awnt ’tunia?” Harry spoke to his aunt. “Dudley got pwesents on his biwthday, why do I never get any?”

“Because Dudley is a good boy, not an ungrateful freak like you! Now don’t ask questions!” Petunia shouted.

A sobbing Harry made his way to the table and started placing the dishes on it.

Lily and Hermione had tears in their eyes. Everyone else looked sad as well, except James. He was too enraged to be sad.

“What’s your age?” he asked, controlling his anger.

“Fourteen.”

“No, in the memory,” he said.

“Three,” Harry softly muttered.

“They made you do their work at three? And denied you presents?” James screeched.

“Tuney knows it very well we would never have treated Dudley like this, had our roles been exchanged,” Lily spoke.

The scene changed. Now they were standing in the living room.

“Your aunt, Dudley and I are going outside,” Vernon spoke.

“Whe-re?” Harry timidly asked.

“YOU DO NOT ASK QUESTIONS!” he roared.

“Y-Yes s-s-sir!”

“Your list of chores is on the dining table. If they’re not complete till we’re back, then no food for a week,” his uncle yelled.

“Yes s-sir!”

“They taught me how to read only for the reason that I could read the lists of chores they made for me,” teenage Harry spoke.

Everyone was angry beyond words. James, Sirius and Lily did not trust themselves to speak.

“What kind of relatives are they?” Remus cried, raging with anger.

Harry was surprised. He had never seen Remus angry.

“I have a feeling that things go downhill from now,” Hermione spoke.

Harry merely nodded.

The scene changed again. A five year old Harry was making the breakfast. A fat boy of same age, presumably Dudley, was playing with his toys. He picked up one block and threw it at Harry, which hit him on the head.

“Ouch!” Harry glared at Dudley, who merely laughed and threw another, bigger block at Harry.

It froze mid-air.

“Accidental magic,” Lily whispered.

Petunia, who entered the room at the moment, screamed. “Vernon! VERNON!”

His Uncle came running into the room (as fast as he could run with his troll-sized legs) “YOU BOY! Inside your cupboard! NOW! I will not tolerate any freakishness in my house! No food for two days!”

“B-Bu—”

“SHUT UP AND GO!” Vernon roared.

“Petunia knew all about accidental magic,” Lily cried.

“Yeah, they just did not appreciate it,” Harry muttered.

The scene dissolved. A six year old Harry stood in the kitchen.

“Aunt Petunia,” he said. “You never told me what happened to my parents.”

“Don’t speak about them under this house,” Petunia shouted. “Your father was a drunkard, and they died in a car crash.”

“CAR CRASH?” Sirius roared. “Lily and James die in car crash? That’s an outrage!”

“Well, there wasn’t anyone to tell me the truth at that time, was there?” Harry said, rather bitterly. “I had no reason for why strange things happened around me, what those peculiar dreams signified!”

“We’re sorry, son,” Lily whispered.

“It’s alright mum. Just, why did it all happen to me?”

“Harry—” Hermione began.

“No, please! I do not want pity. I just want this to get over soon, so that I can show you the memories of the place that’s my real home — Hogwarts.”

An eight year old Harry was now being pulled to a stool by his Uncle, his Aunt following with a pair of scissors in her hand.

“Untidy freak!” Vernon yelled. “Cut his hair so short that he doesn’t need another visit to barber for several months,” he said to Petunia, with an evil look on his face.

Needless to say, his aunt actually cut his hair to the scalp.

Harry woke up next day with his hair as messy and untidy as before the cut, if not more.

“WHAT DID YOU DO TO YOUR HAIR?” Vernon howled.

“I-I d-don’t know Uncle V-Vernon,” Harry replied.

“You are a freak. Did you hear me, a FREAK! I don’t know why we took you in,” he said. “GET INSIDE!” Harry was locked in his cupboard.

“Surprisingly, they let me out in three days,” Harry muttered.

“THREE DAYS? THEY KEPT MY SON LOCKED UP FOR THREE BLOODY DAYS?” James yelled.

“Did they give you anything to eat in the meantime?” Ron asked Harry, who shook his head.

“If I am correct,” said Remus — ignoring Sirius’ remark, “Which you always are” — he spoke, “This isn’t the first time they did that, and certainly not the last.”

“No,” said Harry. “I can’t count the number of days I was locked up.

“They’re going to PAY. . . . They fed me even at Azkaban!” cried Sirius, who had been muttering curses and swear words for Vernon Dursley all the time.

“It’s all past now!” Harry said, a bit louder than he had intended to.

“I don’t CARE!” Lily shrieked. “Petunia has proved that blood is not always thicker than water.”

“I don’t know about anyone else,” Remus, though enraged, spoke in a low voice. “But definitely Dumbledore is going to hear from me for sending Harry to those gits.”

Harry stared at him with his mouth wide open. Remus Lupin angry — Remus Lupin cursing — what will come next!?

The scene dissolved to show a ten year old Harry Potter, asleep at the moment, but not for long. His Aunt Petunia was awake and it was her shrill voice that made the first noise of the day.

“Up! Get up! Now!”

Harry woke with a start. His aunt rapped on the door again.

“Up!” she screeched. Harry heard her walking toward the kitchen and then the sound of the frying pan being put on the stove. He rolled onto his back and tried to remember the dream he had been having. It had been a good one. There had been a flying motorcycle in it. He had a funny feeling he’d had the same dream before.

His aunt was back outside the door.

“Are you up yet?” she demanded.

“Nearly,” said Harry.

“Well, get a move on, I want you to look after the bacon. And don’t you dare let it burn, I want everything perfect on Duddy’s birthday.”

Harry groaned.

“What did you say?” his aunt snapped through the door.

“Nothing, nothing . . .”

Dudley’s birthday — how could he have forgotten? Harry got slowly out of bed and started looking for socks. He found a pair under his bed and, after pulling a spider off one of them, put them on. Harry was used to spiders, because the cupboard under the stairs was full of them, and that was where he slept.

When he was dressed he went down the hall into the kitchen. The table was almost hidden beneath all Dudley’s birthday presents. It looked as though Dudley had gotten the new computer he wanted, not to mention the second television and the racing bike.

“Harry, no offence mate, but what exactly are you wearing?” Ron asked.

“Oh, the usual. Dudley’s old clothes. Not my fault he’s four times my size!” Harry replied. “And yeah, no offence taken.”

“No doubt you’ve been skinny and small for your age,” said Sirius. “But thankfully you’re not a baby whale!”

He and James had been cursing every time Dudley punched Harry.

Uncle Vernon entered the kitchen as Harry was turning over the bacon.

“Comb your hair!” he barked, by way of a morning greeting.

Harry said nothing and put the plates of egg and bacon on the table, which was difficult as there wasn’t much room. Dudley, meanwhile, was counting his presents. His face fell.

“Thirty-six,” he said, looking up at his mother and father. “That’s two less than last year.”

“Darling, you haven’t counted Auntie Marge’s present, see, it’s here under this big one from Mommy and Daddy.”

“All right, thirty-seven then,” said Dudley, going red in the face.

Petunia obviously scented danger, because she said quickly, “And we’ll buy you another two presents while we’re out today. How’s that, popkin? Two more presents. Is that all right?”

Dudley thought for a moment. It looked like hard work. Finally he said slowly, “So I’ll have thirty . . . thirty . . .”

“Thirty-nine, sweetums,” said Aunt Petunia.

“Pig!” Hermione said, surprising everyone. “Doesn’t even know how to COUNT!!”

“Oh.” Dudley sat down heavily and grabbed the nearest parcel. “All right then.”

Uncle Vernon chuckled.

“Little tyke wants his money’s worth, just like his father. ’Atta boy, Dudley!” He ruffled Dudley’s hair.

“GIT! I’m telling you Lily. Right after this, we’re going there and they’re going to pay,” James seethed.

“No,” Lily muttered. As James gave her a questioning look, she said, “This time, I’m going to make them pay, for treating my son like vermin.”

Vernon pushed Harry into the car, along with Dudley and his friend.

“They couldn’t find anyone to watch me and give me a hard time so they had to take me along,” Harry explained.

“Harry, you can speak Parsletongue?” James asked him as he saw the younger Harry speak to the Boa Constrictor.

“Yeah,” Harry muttered.

“Cool!” James grinned at him.

When the Boa Constrictor was set free by Harry — James, Ron and Sirius doubled up in laughter. Even the more collected members of the group couldn’t help but smile widely.

The group watched the attempts made in order to send Harry his letter with amusement. Hagrid’s visit came next, to which everyone commented here and there.

At last, they found themselves back on the floor of Room of Requirement.

“I’ll show you the trip to Diagon Alley along with my first year at Hogwarts,” Harry mumbled.

“That will be tomorrow, because right now we’ve got to pay a well deserved visit to my sister,” Lily spoke.

“We — including me, Lily, Sirius —” James spoke up. On receiving glares from two pairs of eyes, he added, “— Remus and Harry of course!”

“First,” said Remus, “I’m going to Dumbledore for knowing why exactly he sent Harry to the people who had detested you and Lily.”

“I’m coming along,” Sirius, James and Lily said at the same time.

Talk — With Dumbledore, and the Dursleys

 

(A/N: Instead of rotating the first part of this chapter around Harry, I’m just writing in third person P.O.V., Harry being absent from the scenario.)

The weird group — containing Remus Lupin, Sirius Black in his animagus form, Lily and James Potter hidden under the invisibility cloak — made their way to Dumbledore’s office.

“Acid Pops,” Remus spoke the password, to which the stone gargoyle step aside, giving them entrance to the spiral staircase.

“Albus Dumbledore!” it was Lily who cried out his name, as James threw back the Invisibility Cloak, and Sirius turned back to his human self.

“I’m aware of the reason you all have come here,” began Dumbledore, holding a hand to stop them from speaking, “but you must give me a moment to inform you of a particularly good news.”

As Remus nodded, Dumbledore continued — “Thanks to the statement given by Ms. Jorkins . . . Sirius, your name has been cleared off from the crime they held you guilty of. She has given, under the effects of Veritaserum, and hence undertaking a truly dangerous task, a full account of her meeting with Peter Pettigrew, and informed the Ministry of his actions. No doubt, Fudge has seen to it to gain trust of Ms. Jorkins, so that she mustn’t reveal to others that Voldemort might have actually come back — but yes, you’re a free man Sirius, and tomorrow the Daily Prophet will carry the news. You might be summoned at the Ministry for another trial, but —”

“Congratulations Sirius,” Remus said, smiling widely.

“I won’t say anything. I have yet to hear of what exactly happened, to send Padfoot to Azkaban. And that gives me another reason to be mad at you, Dumbledore,” James said.

“Ah, you can yell at me as much as you want,” said Dumbledore. “I personally believe that I deserve being shouted at for all the mistakes I’ve made . . . but here comes the complex part of what I told you just now.”

“Let me guess,” Remus began. “At the trial, they are going to question Sirius under Veritaserum, and you’re afraid they might ask him about you, and what you’re planning against the Ministry.”

“I’m afraid you’re right, Remus,” said Dumbledore.

“We can use the antidote to Veritaserum,” said Lily promptly.

Dumbledore smiled. “How do you know about that Lily?”

“Well . . . it was — er — a private discovery — by me and Severus.”

“Ah, yes,” Dumbledore said with a twinkle in his eyes. “No one knows about it except you, Severus, me and now all the people present in this room. I can trust either you or Severus to prepare it, and I’m afraid he is unavailable for the task at the moment, so I’m counting upon you for that.”

“Of course, Professor Dumbledore.”

“You can call me Albus now. You are no longer a student at Hogwarts.”

“Right — er — Albus,” said Lily.

“You mean to say —” began James, forgetting his anger momentarily, “— that you discovered an antidote to Veritaserum somewhere in first five years at Hogwarts?” He, Remus and Sirius were all looking at Lily in some sort of awe.

She nodded, blushing slightly.

“So, if that is settled,” James spoke, as he remembered the real reason why they were here, and trying hard to keep his voice at a normal volume, “Can I know why the bloody hell was my best mate sent to Azkaban, and why was my son sent to live with those Dursleys?”

All four of them glared at Albus, though Remus and Sirius did so only in regard to Harry being sent to his relatives.

“Well,” Dumbledore began. “You see — you had changed your secret keeper without telling me — or anyone else for the matter.”

“Yeah,” said Sirius. “It was my fault. I asked them to make that rat their keeper. And we did not tell Remus because — well —”

“—you thought I was Voldemort’s spy,” Remus spoke quietly.

“Sorry mate,” said Sirius and James.

“No, it’s alright,” Remus said.

“So . . .” Sirius continued, “That night, I went to the place he was staying at. It was empty, and there was no sign of struggle. I was worried. I went to your house at Godric’s Hollow. It was in a terrible state. I went inside . . . I saw . . . you . . . lying there . . . lifeless. . . .”

“It’s alright Padfoot, I’m back now,” James said, as he placed a reassuring hand on Sirius’ shoulder — who was looking completely shaken.

“I went upstairs, hoping to see Lily and Harry. . . . The nursery door had been blasted open . . . Lily was lying there . . . dead . . .”

“Its fine, Sirius,” Lily said in a gentle voice.

“I could not bear to see what had happened to my godson. As I turned on my heel, I heard him crying. He was crying for you Lils,” Sirius said. “I thought it was a miracle he had survived. I picked him up. He was sobbing so much . . .  asking what the bad man had done to hurt you.

“Hagrid came . . . asked me to hand Harry over to him . . . he said it was Dumbledore’s order . . . they were taking him to a safe place . . . I reluctantly agreed . . . gave him my bike.”

He sighed. “I went after Pettigrew to kill him.”

“You didn’t,” cried James.

“Yes, I did,” said Sirius. “I went on searching for him. After three days, I had him cornered in a muggle street . . .”

“But you didn’t manage to kill him. We saw him that day,” Lily said.

“That’s the thing,” said Sirius. “He shouted out to the street how I had betrayed you guys to Voldemort.”

“NO!” James and Lily cried.

“That’s not the end of it. We had always thought of him to be dumb and daft, hadn’t we? He turned out to be a Slytherin in disguise. With his wand behind his back, he blasted the whole street, killing twelve innocent muggles . . . he then cut his finger off, transformed into a rat, and escaped into the gutters. He faked his own death.”

“What?” cried Lily.

“That moron!” James yelled. “You did not believe it Remus, did you?”

Remus Lupin could not look at James in the eye.

“No Moony! Please don’t tell me you actually believed that Padfoot betrayed us,” James cried.

“What else could I have done,” Remus spoke in a low voice. “All the evidence pointed to him. I didn’t know you had swapped the keepers. On the top of it, after Pettigrew’s little show, he stood there on the street, laughing maniacally like a madman.”

“What else could I have done?” said Sirius. “That rat had outwitted me.”

“Dumbledore, you didn’t!” Lily spoke in a pleading voice.

“I’m sorry,” Albus Dumbledore said.

“What?” yelled James, standing up. “All of you believed that the man — who has always been a brother to me in all but blood — best-man at my wedding — Harry’s godfather — betrayed me! I can’t believe it!” He started pacing around Dumbledore’s office. “You Dumbledore, you knew what Padfoot was to me. How could you just believe some cock-and-bull story and let them send him to Azkaban?” He paused for a second. “You —Remus! How could you not trust him?”

“We didn’t trust him either, Prongs,” Sirius spoke.

“What happened at the trial?” asked Lily. Everyone became quiet as James looked up at them as well, questioningly.

“I didn’t get a trial,” said Sirius.

“You mean to say — you got a life sentence in Azkaban — without a trial?” James all but yelled, as he kicked Dumbledore’s desk. “Stupid morons — gits!” he muttered under his breath, along with another hundred curses and swear words as he upturned a chair in anger.

“Well?” he questioned, looking accusingly at Remus and Dumbledore.

“What?” asked Remus.

“HARRY!” James yelled. “What did this crazy old fool did to my son? Why didn’t you take him if Sirius was not available? Surely, you didn’t think that just because Padfoot was his godfather—”

“I tried,” said Remus. “Ask him!” he said pointing to Dumbledore.

“You better have a good reason to think of sending my baby to my wretched sister, that is, without counting that he was abused there, or I’m going to hex you,” said Lily.

“There is actually a good reason why I sent Harry to your sister,” said Dumbledore. “But I’m afraid I didn’t know he was being abused there.”

“So you send a baby to a muggle family,” James shouted, “but you do not think it important enough to check how he is being treated?”

“I’m really sorry for my mistake,” said Dumbledore.

“Mistake my hat!” cried James. “Your little slip caused my son fourteen years of misery, to put it lightly. And what reason do you have for sending him to the Dursleys?”

“Lily sacrificed herself for protecting Harry,” Dumbledore began. “She thus performed an ancient magic, giving him protection from Voldemort and his followers till he comes of age.”

“And what exactly has it got to do with Lily’s sister?” Sirius questioned.

“Well, you see Petunia is Lily’s only living relative now, hence she shared the blood which flows in Harry’s veins. As long as he called his aunt’s sister his home, the protection would remain in place.”

“So,” Remus spoke, “you’re telling me YOU are unable to save Harry from Voldemort?”

“No,” Dumbledore quietly replied. “But I couldn’t have been with Harry round the clock. Lily’s protective charm was the best thing he could have asked for. Another thing is — that night, when Voldemort tried to kill Harry, the spell backfired, destroying him — all due to Lily’s charm. He became popular overnight as ‘The Boy Who Lived.’ I did not want this fame to get to his head, so I thought it would be better so send him to the muggle world instead of sending him live with some wizarding family.”

“I don’t care!” James yelled. “You haven’t seen what he went through. You haven’t even considered it a responsibility to know how miserably he spent the first eleven years of his life.

“He knew nothing about magic, nothing at all! He was in a belief that his parents were drunkards and got themselves killed in a car crash!”

“Hagrid told me about that,” Dumbledore said. “But I had written a letter to Petunia telling her about the circumstances when I left Harry on their doorstep. I had really hoped she would explain everything to him.”

“A letter?” Sirius yelled. “You left Harry outside their house without even meeting the people he would be living with, with just a LETTER?”

“He lived in a small cupboard under the stairs,” Lily screamed. “He slept on a thin blanket! He polished Vernon’s shoes and did other chores when he was three. They made him cook when he was five. They let his son beat him all the time, and you feel it’s nothing? He might be just another boy for you, but he is my son! And you had no business ordering him to the Dursleys when we had clearly made Sirius Black his godfather, when you didn’t even consider checking upon him even once!”

“I admit it was a grave mistake,” said Dumbledore. “What is done is done. I owe you all an apology and I will do everything within my reach to make up for my mistake.”

“Go and apologize Harry if you mean it,” Remus shouted, surprising everyone.

“I will,” Dumbledore said with his head bowed.

“Now, give us some floo powder, we owe those gits a visit,” Remus said, once more acting out of his character.

Before Dumbledore could say something, Sirius said, “Now don’t you dare to tell us not to go, or not to do something reckless!”

“I wasn’t going to say either thing,” said Dumbledore. “I’m just saying — please don’t let yourselves be seen.”

“We weren’t planning to,” said Lily.

“The best way would be to go to Arabella Figg’s house via floo, she lives just across the street from Dursleys’ house,” Dumbledore said.

“That old squib?” asked Remus.

“The very same.”

“And may I ask why exactly is she living there?” he asked.

“To keep an eye on Harry and give me the reports,” Dumbledore honestly replied.

“You mean to say,” Sirius yelled, “you knew Harry was being mistreated? You fool! You son of a buldger‼”

Remus pulled him by his arm before Sirius could hit Dumbledore. “Come on, let’s go,” he said. “Keep your anger bottled up; we’re going to need it at the Dursleys.”

If James and Sirius had not been so angry, they would have been surprised to see Remus raging and swearing, acting in the most un-Remusly way possible. But today, they didn’t even notice it.

“Wait,” said Lily. “We told Harry we will take him with us. He needs to see this.”

“Oh yes,” said James. “Padfoot, go fetch him.”

Sirius went sulking away, changing into Padfoot at the door.

 

(A/N: Back to revolving the story around Harry.)

 

Harry was so excited about going to tackle the Dursleys that he stumbled forward and fell face first on the carpet in Arabella Figg’s house as he got out of the fireplace. He couldn’t believe it when Remus told him that Mrs. Figg was actually a squib.

The group of five crossed the street to the Dursleys. Lily pressed the doorbell thrice angrily and impatiently waited for the door to open, tapping her foot.

Petunia opened the door. Colour drained out of her face when she looked at Lily, then at James, and finally at Harry. Remus and Lupin were standing behind them, out of sight for the moment.

“V-V-VERNON!” she screamed and fainted on the spot.

None of the group made a move to stop her fall or to help her to her feet.

 A walrus sized man came from inside. His gaze fell on his unconscious wife, then to Lily, James and finally settled on Harry. “YOU!” he roared. “What have you done to my wife, boy?”

“Don’t you dare to yell at my son,” Lily shrieked.

“Your s-son? But y-you . . . aren’t you d-d-dead?” Vernon asked. Harry was enjoyed a stuttering Vernon Dursley for a change.

“Was,” Harry corrected. “Now, they’re back.”

“Y-You are not w-w-welcome h-here,” Vernon stuttered, trying to close the door. “Do not enter,” he said trying to be fierce, but failing miserably.

“Watch me,” James smirked and the door blasted open, giving the intruders a free access to enter the house.

“M-Mum? D-D-Dad?” a frightened Dudley Dursley came running, only to revert back and try to run upstairs to hide, try being the operative word. Sirius Black pulled him by his collar and pushed him back into the living room.

James steered on his wand tip — a horrified Vernon Dursley — into the living room who was now half carrying half dragging Petunia who had come back to her senses but was still in shock.

As Harry followed his father and mother, he found Marge sitting on the table, going red with all the wine. A huge cake was placed on the table and a large pile of presents was sitting on it.

“Looks like we’ve gate crashed a party,” Sirius muttered.

“What’s the date today, Remus?” Harry asked.

“June, the twenty sixth,” Remus said.

“Oh yes, how could I have forgotten? It’s Dudley’s birthday!” Harry spoke. “Happy birthday, Big D.”

(A/N: I don’t actually know Dudley’s birthday, but JKR mentioned in HP and the Half-blood Prince that he is a month older than Harry, so I sort of made it up, w.r.t. June 24th from the task and July 31st from you-know-what. Hope none of you has got a birthday on June 26th then, as I for one can’t even think of sharing mine with Dudley Dursley.)

“Hope you can count your presents now,” Sirius said, sneering at Dudley.

“I know who you are,” Dudley said pointing at Sirius. “I saw you on — on the television. You’re a — a mass murderer — and an escaped convict,” he said, trembling.

“Well then, bad luck for you, as I happen to be Harry’s godfather also,” Sirius said, grinning, to the horror of the Dursleys.

“By the way, congratulations Dudley, your vocabulary had improved,” Harry said.

“I — WILL — NOT — HAVE — TALKING — YOU — TO — MY — SON — LIKE — THAT!” Vernon bellowed, who now seemed to have gained his persona back. “I’ve had enough. Out now! OUT‼” he cried.

“Nah! I want to have a little chat with my dear sister now,” Lily said, smiling wickedly. “Have a seat Tuney, or should I say Petunia now.”

A trembling Petunia sat down on the sofa.

Remus spoke up, “This must be your sister Vernon, seeing that she’s got the same pig blubber. I don’t want her to miss the fun.” With a flick of his wand, Marge became sober once more.

“Are you — you are —” Marge started, staring at Lily.

“Yeah, Petunia’s dead sister,” Lily said. “But now I’m alive you see, and I’ve come back to have my revenge for treating my son like filth. . . . Let me introduce you to the rest of us . . . this is my husband, James Potter, Vice-Head of Auror Department — which is equivalent to Vice-Superintendent of Police,” she said pointing to James. Moving to Sirius, she said, “This is Sirius Black — a prison escapee — like the piglet over there said. He is my husband’s best friend and Harry’s godfather.” Pointing to Remus, she said, “He is Remus Lupin, a werewolf, and my husband’s other best friend.”

Harry was so far enjoying the horror on the faces of the Dursleys.

“Isn’t a policeman supposed to turn the criminals in?” Marge asked.

“Well, being best friends with one is a great perk,” Sirius said, smirking.

Harry spoke up, “And for your information — er — Marge, I go to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and not — er — what was that — yes — St. Brutus’s Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys. You see, I’m a wizard, so are they,” he said pointing to James, Sirius and Remus. “And my mum’s a witch.”

“Don’t listen to him Marge,” Vernon bellowed. “He’s mad, so are the rest!”

“I can see that for myself,” Marge spoke. “Petunia, I think she isn’t even your sister. Your parents must have picked her up from the orphanage. Or someone dumped her on their doorstep just like this boy was dumped at yours.”

The next instant, she went flying into the wall, with feet up and head down, arms sticking to her sides. All four adults had their wands pointed at her, and had shot a different spell each. Funniest thing was the way her legs were behaving — straightening up for a second and deflating like a jelly the next instant. Harry and the rest went howling with laughter.

“I used the full body-bind,” Sirius smirked. “Which one did you use, James?”

“Levicorpus,” James said, grinning.

“I used tongue-tying spell,” said Remus. “She was speaking too much for her own good.”

All three of them looked at Lily. “Oh, I used the Banishing Charm, followed by Jelly-Legs” she said. Smirking at Vernon, she added, “Fourteen years of being dead has left me and James a bit rusty. Should we use you next for practicing upon, or your son Dudley, seeing as he treated my son as a personal punching bag all those years‼”

“Wait Lily —” James said, “— talk first, action later!”

“Oh yes,” Lily said, sitting down on the couch. “Will you keep standing, Vernon?” she said in a sickly sweet manner, as she pointed her wand and forced him in a sitting position on the chair. All others settled as well.

“So,” James began. “I’m — er — unemployed? A ‘no-account, good-for-nothing, lazy scrounger’ — who got myself and Lily killed in a car crash — er — drunk, right? Well, for your information I don’t even know how to drive that wretched thing! A broom’s far better.”

“And,” Sirius began, “her sister, Lily was a ‘bad egg’, who ran off with a wastrel to give birth to Harry? If you call Lily a bad egg and Petunia’s good for you, then you ought to sort out your knowledge of good and bad.”

“Well, for your information, James’ son here has saved the necks of not only us wizards but you muggles as well — from Voldemort — four times. For all you know, if Lily hadn’t died and the spell hadn’t backfired on Voldemort that night, you all could have been long dead. Let’s see — then, if Harry here hadn’t put his life on stake and stopped Voldemort from returning, in his first year at Hogwarts, all you muggles would be gone. Same goes for the second year, just with a tad bit more danger. And then, this year, Lord Voldemort has returned, so watch your necks,” Remus said.

“They don’t understand all that, Remus,” Harry said.

“Then they should,” Sirius spoke. “You should’ve called yourselves lucky you’re related to Harry Potter, but you — you made him work — make breakfast — mow lawns — treated him like filth! Did you think you’d get away with all that?”

“Petunia,” Lily began, “d’you think we would have treated Dudley the same way were the circumstances reversed?”

“Well, I think we wouldn’t have atleast allowed him to develop into a baby-whale,” James said, leaning back on the couch.

“Now apologize,” Remus spoke up.

“W-WHAT?” Vernon asked, sitting up straight.

“D’you want me to clean your ears for you? He asked you to apologize to Harry,” Sirius shouted.

“And why would I do that,” Vernon asked.

“Well, you would if you want your son not to be changed into a pig,” James said. “You haven’t forgotten the pig-tail Hagrid gave him, have you?”

“I’m s-s-sorry Harry,” Petunia mumbled.

“Pardon me, I couldn’t hear you Aunt Petunia,” Harry said, enjoying it all.

“I’m SORRY,” she shouted before standing up in anger.

“You don’t apologize like that,” Remus seethed. Petunia was forced to fall back on the couch. “Let’s start with your husband here,” he said pointing to Vernon. “Will fifteen sit-ups be fine Harry, one for each year? I would have gone for fifteen hundred, but I don’t think his legs can support more than that.”

“Yeah fine,” Harry said, laughing at the look on Vernon’s face.

Fifteen sit-ups and a handful of hexes each later, Harry found himself back in Arabella Figg’s living room with the others. Remus Lupin had performed a memory charm on Marge.

As the adults were talking about what had just happened, Harry spoke up “Why didn’t you tell me you’re a Squib?” he asked Mrs. Figg. “All those times I came round your house — why didn’t you say anything?”

“Dumbledore’s orders,” she said. “I was to keep an eye on you but not say anything, you were too young. I’m sorry I gave you such a miserable time, but the Dursleys would never have let you come if they’d thought you enjoyed it. It wasn’t easy, you know. . . .”

“Yeah,” said Harry.

After having tea and some cakes, the group flooed back to Dumbledore’s study.

Memories

 “That was fun,” James said as he and Lily emerged from underneath the invisibility cloak in the Room of Requirement.

“Yeah, it was,” Harry said, grinning widely. Though it was childish of him, but he had really enjoyed the Dursleys suffering for once, as a change.

“That reminds me,” Sirius spoke suddenly, drawing out his wand and pointing it at Remus. “Who are you, and what have you done to our Moony?”

James and Lily laughed.

“Yeah,” said James. “I’ve never seen you yelling, or swearing, or losing your temper on anyone!”

“I can tolerate anything happening to me, but not on my nephew,” Remus spoke.

Harry’s heart swelled with happiness and he felt touched on hearing this.

Lily sniffed back a tear. “Oh, Moony!” she cried and hugged him fiercely.

Sirius mimicked Lily. Sniffing, he said, “I didn’t know — could be — so — sentimental — Remus!”

Remus glared at Sirius as Lily smacked him at the back of his head.

“So, where’re we going to spend the night?” James wondered out aloud, after they’d had dinner from the food that lay on the table, which Dumbledore might have sent. No sooner had he said this, the couches were replaced by two single and a double four-poster beds.

“I’ll run back to my dormitory now,” Harry said.

“So, you’re not spending the night here?” Lily asked.

“No,” said Harry. “Ron and Hermione will definitely be up right now and must be waiting for me to narrate the incident.”

Remus passed him the invisibility cloak. “Off you go then, Harry!”

James pouted as Harry grabbed the cloak. He probably had been looking forward to some midnight excursions, but one look from Lily quieted him before he could open his mouth.

As Harry had expected, Ron and Hermione were sitting in the common room waiting for him, and at once bombarded him with questions.

Harry told them all about what had happened at the Dursleys. Hermione didn’t disapprove, but she settled on for a small smile. Ron was not as quiet with his expressions, and laughed maniacally.

“I can’t believe it!” he said. “Perhaps you could show this to us once we’re done with showing the memories to your parents.”

Harry nodded. It had definitely been a long day for him, and he had not yet gotten over the night in the graveyard.

“If you don’t mind now, I’m going to sleep,” he said stifling a yawn.

Ron followed him, as Hermione moved to the girls’ dormitory. Harry fell asleep before his head could hit the pillow.

 

The next morning was particularly hot, drawing the students indoors. Exams were long over, and three days still remained of the school year, so the Gryffindors had nothing to do other than lazing around in the common room. All, except three.

Harry, Ron and Hermione had sprinted off the Room of Requirement as soon as they’d woken up ad got ready, much to the annoyance of James Potter and Sirius Black, who had been forced to wake up by the three intruders.

“Geoff!”James whined as Harry tried to wake him up.

Ron had brought Pigwidgeon along to serve this purpose. The tiny owl hooted in excitement and twittered loudly, flying around the room in circles and occasionally pecking the two sleepy figures.

But it was Hermione who actually woke them up. “What we need right now,” she spoke, as if thinking deeply, “is a place where we can sit and eat our breakfast, and then watch Harry’s memories.”

The beds vanished, causing James and Sirius to fall down on the floor, and both of them groaned as one.

“Alright —” said James. “— I give up! Oi, Padfoot! Wake up!”

“Fine, Sirius. Carry on sleeping on the floor. Don’t say anything if you don’t get any breakfast later,” Remus spoke.

This had an instant effect. Sirius sat up straight like he had been on a watchman duty for hours.

Lily, Hermione, Harry, Ron and Remus laughed at him.

“Wait,” said Hermione. “Look at this first!” she pointed at the Daily Prophet in her hand.

Everyone looked at her as she read the headline:

SIRIUS BLACK CLEARED OF PREVIOUS CHARGES

Bertha Jorkins, a ministry official, who had been missing for nearly one year now, had turned up during the third task of the Triwizard Tournament. She was rescued by Harry Potter and Cedric Diggory who were taken to a Death Eater’s place via the cup which turned out to be a portkey.

The Ministry has questioned Ms. Jorkins, and now believes that Sirius Black, who was convicted of selling out the Potter family to You-Know-Who and killing Peter Pettigrew along with twelve muggles, was in fact framed. Peter Pettigrew, who is an unregistered animagus, was the real convict, and had faked his own death. Ms. Jorkins gave a testimony under the effects of Veritaserum that Pettigrew is still alive and is now making an army of Death Eaters, Barty Crouch Junior being one of them, who was responsible for all the upheaval at Triwizard Tournament, and has been punished accordingly by nothing less than the Dementor’s Kiss. Sirius Black is informed that the Ministry will hold a trial for him on September the fifth, and expects him to turn up. (Contd. Pg 7)

“Finally!” muttered Sirius as they continued their discussion on the upcoming trial.

After they’d eaten their breakfast, Harry extracted out the memories of his first year at Hogwarts and put them in the pensieve.

The group found themselves in the Leaky Cauldron.

The bartender smiled at Hagrid and reached for a glass, saying, “The usual, Hagrid?”

“Can’t, Tom, I’m on Hogwarts business,” said Hagrid, clapping his great hand on Harry’s shoulder and making Harry’s knees buckle.

“Good Lord,” said the bartender, peering at Harry, “is this — can this be — ?”

The Leaky Cauldron had suddenly gone completely still and silent.            

“Bless my soul,” whispered the old bartender, “Harry Potter . . . what an honor.”

He hurried out from behind the bar, rushed toward Harry and seized his hand, tears in his eyes.

“Welcome back, Mr. Potter, welcome back.”

“I didn’t know what to say,” Harry spoke up. “I had come to know about another world less than twenty four hours ago, and these people were treating me like I was some sort of a hero!”

“But then, you were a hero,” Ron said, getting a nudge from Hermione.

“Oh Harry,” the girl said. “I can understand.”

Harry shook hands with everyone in the bar. One person came over again and again.

“Professor Quirrell!” said Hagrid, pointing to a pale man. “Harry, Professor Quirrell will be one of your teachers at Hogwarts.”

“P-P-Potter,” stammered Professor Quirrell, grasping Harry’s hand, “c-can’t t-tell you how p-pleased I am to meet you.”

“What sort of magic do you teach, Professor Quirrell?”

“D-Defense Against the D-D-Dark Arts,” Quirrell muttered, as though he’d rather not think about it. “N-not that you n-need it, eh, P-P-Potter? You’ll be g-getting all your equipment, I suppose? I’ve g-got to p-pick up a new b-book on vampires, m-myself.”

“That git!” Ron muttered. Harry and Hermione shushed him.

The scene dissolved. They found themselves standing in the Diagon Alley.

Harry and Hagrid withdrew Harry’s money from Gringotts and then went to Vault seven hundred and thirteen.

“What’s in that?” James asked.

“Oh, you’ll find about it by the end of the year,” Harry replied, grinning mysteriously.

“I bet you didn’t have as much fun as we had in our first year,” James said. “We — that is me, Remus and Sirius —” he intentionally omitted Peter Pettigrew, “— found out a way out to Hogsmead in our first year!”

“I wouldn’t be too sure of that, James,” Ron muttered.

James looked at him skeptically.

Harry met Malfoy at Madam Malkin’s.

“That was the first time and last time I talked to Malfoy straightly,” Harry said.

“I don’t believe it! You didn’t know about Quidditch!” James said.

“Don’t make me feel worse, dad,” Harry grumbled.

“Oh, sorry,” James said, smiling apologetically.

At Ollivanders, Harry tried. And tried. The pile of tried wands was mounting higher and higher on the spindly chair, but the more wands Mr. Ollivander pulled from the shelves, the happier he seemed to become.

“I got mine on third try,” Hermione muttered.

“Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we’ll find the perfect match here somewhere — I wonder, now — yes, why not — unusual combination — holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple.”

Harry took the wand. He raised the wand above his head, brought it swishing down throwing dancing spots of light on to the walls. Hagrid whooped and clapped and Mr. Ollivander cried, “Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well . . . how curious . . . how very curious . . .”

He put Harry’s wand back into its box and wrapped it in brown paper, still muttering, “Curious . . . curious . . .”

“Sorry,” said Harry, “but what’s curious?”

Mr. Ollivander stared at Harry and said, “I remember every wand I’ve ever sold, Mr. Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather — just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother — why, its brother gave you that scar.”

Harry swallowed.

“Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember. . . . I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Potter. . . . After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things — terrible, yes, but great.”

“That’s what brought us back to life,” Lily said, smiling sadly. “If you had picked some other wand that day, we wouldn’t have been here, Harry.”

The scene reformed to show Vernon Dursley wheeling Harry’s trunk to the platform.

“What’s got into him?” Sirius said, “Pulling your cart‼”

“You’ll see,” Harry muttered.

A moment later, Remus swore. “I can’t believe that Hagrid didn’t tell you how to get onto the platform!”

“Well, it proved good for me,” Harry said, smiling. “That was how I met Ron for the first time!”

Harry was trying to lift his trunk up the steps but could hardly raise one end and twice he dropped it painfully on his foot.

“Want a hand?” It was one of the Weasley twins.

“Yes, please,” Harry panted.

“Oy, Fred! C’mere and help!”

With the twins’ help, Harry’s trunk was at last tucked away in a corner of the compartment.

“Thanks,” said Harry, pushing his sweaty hair out of his eyes.

“What’s that?” said one of the twins suddenly, pointing at Harry’s lightning scar.

“Blimey,” said the other twin. “Are you — ?”

“He is,” said the first twin. “Aren’t you?” he added to Harry.

“What?” said Harry.

“Harry Potter,” chorused the twins.

“Oh, him,” said Harry. “I mean, yes, I am.”

Everyone laughed at the look on Fred and George’s face.

“Blimey!” said Ron. “It’s highly unusual for those two to be left speechless. Thanks mate,” he thumped Harry’s back.

“For what?” Harry asked, confused.

“Perfect blackmail material,” Ron sniggered.

The journey to Hogwarts turned out to be a pleasant memory for those who were viewing it, giving them a lot to laugh at. James and Sirius especially teased Hermione for her behaviour.

“We never knew then that we would end up being best friends with her,” Ron said.

“Yeah, at that time, he wanted to stay as much away from her as possible.” Harry added, smirking, and winking at James, who grinned in turn.

 

(A/N: I’ve decided to do the memories in between the chapters, as you all know very well what happened in the four years, and if I do them now, it’ll get boring.)

Number 12, Grimmauld Place

 

Harry packed his trunk up in the dormitory on the night before his return to wherever he was going to spend his vacations. He was impatiently waiting for the Leaving Feast, when the winner of the Inter-House Championship would be announced.

When he, Ron, and Hermione entered the Hall, they saw that the Great Hall was decorated in red and gold for the Leaving Feast. Harry felt a lighter and brighter to see Gryffindor winning the House Cup for fourth year in row. Given this, the Gryffindor table was the loudest and the cheeriest of all. Harry could see Draco Malfoy sulking at the Slytherin table.

The real Mad-Eye Moody was at the staff table now, his wooden leg and his magical eye back in place. He was extremely twitchy, jumping every time someone spoke to him. Harry couldn’t blame him; Moody’s fear of attack was bound to have been increased by his ten-month imprisonment in his own trunk.

 

The weather could not have been more different on the journey back to King’s Cross than it had been on their way to Hogwarts the previous September — when it had been raining heavily — to put it lightly. There wasn’t a single cloud in the sky today. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had managed to get a compartment to themselves.

Pigwidgeon was once again hidden under Ron’s dress robes to stop him from hooting continually; Hedwig was dozing, her head under her wing, and Crookshanks was curled up in a spare seat like a large, furry ginger cushion. Harry, Ron, and Hermione talked more fully and freely than they had all week as the train sped them southward, and played a number of rounds of Exploding Snap till the lunch trolley arrived.

When Hermione returned from the trolley and put her money back into her schoolbag, she began telling them about Rita Skeeter being an unregistered Animagus. She was still going on when the compartment door opened.

“Very clever, Granger,” said Draco Malfoy.

Crabbe and Goyle were standing behind him. All three of them looked more pleased with themselves, more arrogant and more menacing, than Harry had ever seen them.

“So,” said Malfoy slowly, advancing slightly into the compartment and looking slowly around at them, a smirk quivering on his lips. “You caught some pathetic reporter, and Potter’s Dumbledore’s favorite boy again. Big deal.”

His smirk widened. Crabbe and Goyle leered.

“Get out,” said Harry, as he gripped his wand under his robes.

“You’ve picked the losing side, Potter! I warned you! I told you, you ought to choose your company more carefully, remember? When we met on the train, first day at Hogwarts? I told you not to hang around with riffraff like this!” He jerked his head at Ron and Hermione. “Too late now, Potter! They’ll be the first to go, now the Dark Lord’s ba—”

It was as though someone had exploded a box of fireworks within the compartment. Blinded by the blaze of the spells that had blasted from every direction, deafened by a series of bangs, Harry blinked and looked down at the floor.

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were all lying unconscious in the doorway. He, Ron, and Hermione were on their feet, all three of them having used a different hex. Nor were they the only ones to have done so.

“Thought we’d see what those three were up to,” said Fred matter-of-factly, stepping onto Goyle and into the compartment. He had his wand out, and so did George, who was careful to tread on Malfoy as he followed Fred inside.

“Interesting effect,” said George, looking down at Crabbe. “Who used the Furnunculus Curse?”

“Me,” said Harry.

“Odd,” said George lightly. “I used Jelly-Legs. Looks as though those two shouldn’t be mixed. He seems to have sprouted little tentacles all over his face. Well, let’s not leave them here, they don’t add much to the decor.”

Ron, Harry, and George kicked, rolled, and pushed the unconscious Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle — each of whom looked distinctly the worse for the jumble of jinxes with which they had been hit — out into the corridor, then came back into the compartment and rolled the door shut.

“Exploding Snap, anyone?” said Fred, pulling out a pack of cards.

The rest of the journey passed pleasantly enough. Soon, the Hogwarts Express was pulling in at platform nine and three-quarters. The usual confusion and noise filled the corridors as the students began to disembark. Ron and Hermione struggled out past Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, carrying their trunks. Harry, however, stayed put.

“Fred — George — wait a moment.”

The twins turned. Harry pulled open his trunk and drew out his and Cedric’s Triwizard winnings.

“Take it,” he said, and he thrust the sack into George’s hands.

“What?” said Fred, looking flabbergasted.

“Take it,” Harry repeated firmly. “I don’t want it, neither does Cedric.”

“You’re mental,” said George, trying to push it back at Harry.

“No, I’m not,” said Harry. “You take it, and get inventing. It’s for the joke shop.”

“He is mental,” Fred said in an almost awed voice.

“Listen,” said Harry firmly. “If you don’t take it, I’m throwing it down the drain. I don’t want it and I don’t need it. But I could do with a few laughs. We could all do with a few laughs. I’ve got a feeling we’re going to need them more than usual before long.”

“Harry,” said George weakly, weighing the money bag in his hands, “there’s got to be a thousand Galleons in here.”

“Yeah,” said Harry, grinning. “Think how many Canary Creams that is.”

The twins stared at him.

“Just don’t tell your mum where you got it . . . although she might not be so keen for you to join the Ministry anymore, come to think of it. . . .”

“Harry,” Fred began, but Harry pulled out his wand.

“Look,” he said flatly, “take it, or I’ll hex you. I know some good ones now. Just do me one favor, okay? Buy Ron some different dress robes and say they’re from you.”

He left the compartment before they could say another word, stepping over Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, who were still lying on the floor, covered in hex marks.

As Harry got on the platform, he was surprised to see Remus Lupin waving over to him, waiting for him.

“Over here, Harry,” he said.

“See you, Harry,” said Ron, clapping him on the back.

“ ’Bye, Harry!” said Hermione, and she did something she had never done before, and kissed him on the cheek.

“Harry — thanks,” George muttered, while Fred nodded fervently at his side.

 

Harry walked with Remus Lupin to a grim neighborhood, where they abruptly came to halt in front of the wall joining number eleven and number . . . thirteen?

“Here,” Remus whispered, giving a piece of parchment to Harry. “Read quickly and memorize.”

Harry looked down at the piece of paper. The narrow handwriting was vaguely familiar. It said:

The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London.

“But where’s —?” Harry began to ask, clearly confused as he looked at number eleven, then at thirteen, and then back at eleven.

“Think about what you’ve just memorized,” said Lupin quietly.

Harry thought, and no sooner had he reached the part about number twelve, Grimmauld Place, than a battered door emerged out of nowhere between numbers eleven and thirteen, followed swiftly by dirty walls and grimy windows. It was as though an extra house had inflated, pushing those on either side out of its way. Harry gaped at it. The stereo in number eleven thudded on. Apparently the Muggles inside hadn’t even felt anything.

Harry walked up the worn stone steps, staring at the newly materialized door. Its black paint was shabby and scratched. The silver door knocker was in the form of a twisted serpent. There was no keyhole or letterbox.

Lupin pulled out his wand and tapped the door once. Harry heard many loud, metallic clicks and what sounded like the clatter of a chain. The door creaked open.

“Get in quick, Harry,” Lupin whispered. “But don’t go far inside and don’t touch anything.”

As soon as Harry entered the hallway, he found himself enveloped in a warm hug, as Lily Potter fiercely hugged him.

“Hi mum,” he wearily muttered.

“Tired?” his mother asked, concerned, as she relieved him of his luggage when he nodded and led him to a door on his left.

He was sandwiched between two adults as soon as he stepped inside.

“Padfoot . . . dad . . . can’t breathe!” he cried, grinning.

“How’s my favourite godson?” Sirius asked, settling back on a sofa.

“I’m your only godson,” Harry said.

“Still the favourite,” replied Sirius, grinning widely.

“As if you’ve got a choice!” James smirked.

“Padfoot, show Harry his room, will you?” Lily asked, without looking up from the dinner she was cooking.

“Of course, Lils!” he replied, standing up. “Come on, Harry!”

“You don’t get to call her Lils,” James shouted over their backs.

“Sure Prongsie!” Sirius yelled back.

“Filth! Scum! By-products of dirt and vileness! Half-breeds, mutants, freaks, bygone from this place! How dare you befoul the house of my fathers —” Harry heard a voice screeching, and found the source to be a painting of an ugly old woman, which had previously been hidden behind curtains.

“Shut up, you horrible old hag, shut UP!” Sirius roared, seizing the curtain which had previously covered the painting.

The old woman’s face blanched.

“Yoooou!” she howled, her eyes popping at the sight of the man. “Blood traitor, abomination, shame of my flesh!”

“I said — shut — UP!” roared Sirius, and with a stupendous effort he and James, who had joined them, managed to force the curtains closed again.

“So, you’ve finally met my dear old mum, Harry,” said Sirius. “We’ve been trying to get her down for a month but we think she put a Permanent Sticking Charm on the back of the canvas.”

“But what’s a portrait of your mother doing here?” Harry asked, bewildered.

“This was my parents’ house,” said Sirius. “But I’m the last Black left, so it’s mine now. I offered it to Dumbledore for headquarters.”

James grinned. “Come to think of what your mother would have said had she known you’re putting this house for a movement against Voldemort.”

“Clearly unimaginable,” said Sirius, sarcastically.

Harry followed Sirius upstairs. As they reached the second landing, he said, “The door on the right is you. I’ve got something — er — important to do, I’ll see you downstairs in a while. Cedric’s staying here. He’s the room on the left.”

Before Harry could respond, he dashed down the stairs and vanished behind the wall. Sighing, Harry made his way to the room.

“Hi Harry,” Cedric Diggory greeted him, poking his head from the door of his room. “I thought you must have come, when I heard the uncharacteristically pleasant sound of Mrs. Black.” He smirked.

“Hey Cedric,” Harry said, amused. He had never thought of Cedric as a humorous type. “What exactly this place is, besides being Sirius’ family’s home?” he asked, as the two went inside Harry’s room.

“House of one of the Darkest Wizarding Families —” Cedric grinned, “— apart from being Headquarters of The Order of the Phoenix.”

“So, what are your current leads?”

“Sorry mate, can’t tell you about that. Ask your parents or your godfather instead,” Cedric replied. “Come to think of it, I don’t actually even know half of the stuff. Apparently, I’m yet not old enough to know all of that.”

“Alright,” Harry muttered in defeat. “So, what’re you doing right now, being officially out of the school, apart from working for the Order?”

“Nothing at the moment. I’m supposed to be at St. Mungo’s, remember?” Cedric replied. “Though I’ll be joining Auror training a month or two later. Apparently, Dumbledore’s covering for me, saying I’m under healer supervision at my house.”

Harry nodded, not understanding whether he was serious or was just playing around. He suddenly spoke up, “Cedric . . . I gave the Triwizard winnings to Fred and George for their joke shop . . . mine, as well as yours . . . do you mind?”

To his surprise, Cedric’s face broke out into a huge grin. “Couldn’t have thought of a better thing to do with the money. I’ve always been fond of the Weasley twins. Can’t imagine a Hogwarts without those two troublemakers.”

Harry grinned in return. He was slowly getting over his anger towards Cedric for Cho, and was beginning to like the guy. (A/N: As a friend.)

“Let’s go downstairs. You must be famished,” Cedric said.

Harry followed him to the living room where the Marauders were having a good laugh over something.

 

The Weasleys, minus Charlie and Percy, arrived the next morning.

Lily gave directions to everyone the moment they arrived. “Arthur, Molly — take the bedroom on the right, first floor . . . Ron — put your stuff in Harry’s room . . . Bill — you’re going to stay with Cedric . . . Ginny — top floor, left . . . Fred and George — same on the right!”

“Go now and put your stuff in your rooms, settle down and come back for lunch,” yelled Molly Weasley, though the second half of her sentence was drowned by the screeches of Mrs. Black.

“BLOODY HELL!” said Ron. “What exactly is that?” he asked Harry.

“Nothing . . . Just my god-grandmother,” Harry replied, grinning. This was the best summer he had in years, one of the major reasons — it being Dursley free.

 

Ron was appreciating the cheerfulness of the room he and Harry were sharing (note the sarcasm) with Ron’s owl Pigwidgeon zooming over their heads in circles, making excited noises, as Hedwig glared at it from the top of a dark wardrobe where she was perched upon.

With two loud cracks, Fred and George, Ron’s elder twin brothers materialized out of thin air in the middle of the room. Pigwidgeon twittered more wildly than ever and zoomed off to join Hedwig on top of the wardrobe.

“Stop doing that!” Ron said grumpily.

“You two passed your Apparation tests, then?” asked Harry grinning at the twins.

“With distinction,” said Fred, who was holding what looked like a piece of very long, flesh-colored string.

“It would have taken you about thirty seconds longer to walk down the stairs,” said Ron, as Ginny entered the room.

“Time is Galleons, little brother,” said Fred. “Extendable Ears,” he added in response to Harry’s raised eyebrows, holding up the string.

“Why is Bill here?” Harry asked. “I thought he was working in Egypt.”

“He applied for a desk job so he could come home and work for the Order,” said Fred. “He says he misses the tombs, but,” he smirked, “there are compensations. . . .”

“What d’you mean?”

“Remember old Fleur Delacour?” said George. “She’s got a job at Gringotts to eemprove ’er Eeenglish —”

“— and Bill’s been giving her a lot of private lessons,” sniggered Fred.

“Charlie’s in the Order too,” said George, “but he’s still in Romania, Dumbledore wants as many foreign wizards brought in as possible, so Charlie’s trying to make contacts on his days off.”

“Couldn’t Percy do that?” Harry asked. The last he had heard, the third Weasley brother was working in the Department of International Magical Cooperation at the Ministry of Magic.

At these words all the Weasleys exchanged darkly significant looks.

“Whatever you do, don’t mention Percy in front of Mum and Dad,” Ron told Harry in a tense voice.

“Why not?”

“Because every time Percy’s name is mentioned, Dad breaks whatever he’s holding and Mum starts crying,” Ginny said.

“What’s happened?” Harry said.

“Percy and Dad had a row yesterday,” said Fred. “I’ve never seen Dad row with anyone like that. It’s normally Mum who shouts. . . .”

“We were packing for coming here” said Ron. “Percy came home and told us he’d been promoted.”

“You’re kidding?” said Harry.

Though he knew perfectly well that Percy was highly ambitious, Harry’s impression was that Percy had not made a great success of his first job at the Ministry of Magic. Percy had committed the fairly large oversight of failing to notice that his boss was being controlled by Lord Voldemort (not that the Ministry had believed that — they all thought that Mr. Crouch had gone mad).

“Yeah, we were all surprised,” said George, “because Percy got into a load of trouble about Crouch, there was an inquiry and everything. They said Percy ought to have realized Crouch was off his rocker and informed a superior. But you know Percy, Crouch left him in charge, he wasn’t going to complain. . . .”

“So how come they promoted him?”

“That’s exactly what we wondered,” said Ron. “He came home really pleased with himself — even more pleased than usual if you can imagine that — and told Dad he’d been offered a position in Fudge’s own office. A really good one for someone only a year out of Hogwarts — Junior Assistant to the Minister. He expected Dad to be all impressed, I think.”

“Only Dad wasn’t,” said Fred grimly.

“Why not?” said Harry.

“Well, apparently Fudge has been storming round the Ministry checking that nobody’s having any contact with Dumbledore,” said George.

“Dumbledore’s name’s mud with the Ministry these days, Dad told us,” said Fred. “They all think he’s just making trouble saying You-Know-Who’s back.”

“Dad says Fudge has made it clear that anyone who’s in league with Dumbledore can clear out their desks,” said George.

“Trouble is, Fudge suspects Dad, he knows he’s friendly with Dumbledore, and he’s always thought Dad’s a bit of a weirdo because of his Muggle obsession —”

“But what’s this got to do with Percy?” asked Harry, confused.

“I’m coming to that. Dad reckons Fudge only wants Percy in his office because he wants to use him to spy on the family — and Dumbledore.”

Harry let out a low whistle.

“Bet Percy loved that.”

Ron laughed in a hollow sort of way.

“He went completely berserk. He said — well, he said loads of terrible stuff. He said he’s been having to struggle against Dad’s lousy reputation ever since he joined the Ministry and that Dad’s got no ambition and that’s why we’ve always been — you know — not had a lot of money, I mean —”

“What?” said Harry in disbelief, as Ginny made a noise like an angry cat.

“I know,” said Ron in a low voice. “And it got worse. He said Dad was an idiot to run around with Dumbledore, that Dumbledore was heading for big trouble and Dad was going to go down with him, and that he — Percy — knew where his loyalty lay and it was with the Ministry. And if Mum and Dad were going to become traitors to the Ministry he was going to make sure everyone knew he didn’t belong to our family anymore. And he packed his bags at night and left. He’s living here in London now.”

Harry swore under his breath. He had always liked Percy least of Ron’s brothers, but he had never imagined he would say such things to Mr. Weasley.

The door to their room opened. It was Lily. She said, “The dinner’s ready kids. We’re eating in the kitchen, Harry will lead you there. Others are going to join us shortly, so be quick.”

“We’ll be down in a minute, Mrs. Potter,” Ginny spoke.

“Oi! I’m Lily . . . don’t call me Mrs. Potter, or I’m going to hex you,” she said giving her a fake frown before going back downstairs.

“Yeah, she’s a Marauder’s girl!” James winked at Ginny from the door.

“What do you mean?” asked Fred.

“The Marauders —” said George.

“—as in THE Marauders?” Fred asked.

“As in — Moony, Wormtail —”

“— Padfoot and Prongs?”

“Yeah, I’m Prongs,” James said casually, as he sat beside Harry.

“Are you serious?” the Twins asked in unison.

“No, Sirius’ Padfoot,” James grinned.

“And Moony is our good old Professor Lupin,” Ron said.

“You knew —?” George yelled at Ron.

“— and you didn’t tell us!” Fred said.

“We worship the Marauders —” George said.

“— and son of a Marauder is our brother’s best friend!” Fred cried.

“This is an outrage —” George yelled.

“— a scandal‼” Fred spoke.

“Whoa!” James said, grinning at the twins. “Calm down, guys.” Ron, Harry and Ginny were laughing hysterically.

“You’re our idols!” Fred and George said.

“Remember dad?” Harry spoke. “I told you something about Hogwarts pranksters . . . meet the two and only — most popular — the Weasley Twins!”

Fred and George gave James a low bow.

“Ah,” said James. “I, along with Sirius and Remus, will give you personal pranking lessons if you come down right now for dinner, or Lily will kill me.”

The twins stood up on their feet with an impossible speed. “It’s a deal,” they shouted and disapparated at once.

“Their way of saving time,” Ginny said, shaking her head.

James exchanged a look with Harry, who mouthed ‘Told you, dad’.

 

Dinner was fun for the residents of Grimmauld place that night. Harry and the Weasley kids were introduced to young Nymphadora Tonks (who preferred to be called Tonks), the real Mad-Eye Moody, Mundungus Fletcher, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and other members of the Order who were staying for dinner.

Tonks was a metamorphagus, and was entertaining Ginny and the rest by changing her looks, especially making funny noses. The best thing Harry liked about her so far was how she greeted him, saying “Wotcher, Harry!” Also, she was dead clumsy for an Auror.

Fred and George were laughing with Mundungus Fletcher as he was telling them jokes about his business.

Cedric was talking to James and Remus about Auror training.

Suddenly, Kingsley spoke up. “You’re in Fifth year, aren’t you?” He looked at Harry and Ron.

Both of them nodded.

“So, the Prefects will be made this year?”

Harry hadn’t thought about it yet. What was he expecting? Will he be made a Prefect?

“I think that Hermione is definitely going to be a Prefect,” said Ron.

“And Harry!” added Cedric.

“Oi! I’m going to disown you if you become a Prefect,” James shouted from across the table, getting a smack on his head from Lily.

“Yeah,” said Sirius. “No godson of mine should become a boring Prefect.”

“So, you weren’t a Prefect, dad?” Harry asked, genuinely interested.

“Nah! Too much of a troublemaker for being a Prefect,” his father said. “The good boy Remus got the badge.” He got a fierce glare from Remus, which he daftly ignored.

“Your mother was a Prefect though,” said Remus.

“I’m sure Lily Jr. will definitely get the badge,” James said.

“Who?” asked Kingsley.

“Hermione!” Harry said, choking on his pumpkin juice. He decided he did not want to become a Prefect. He already had much on his plate. But if he became one . . . he will see then, he decided. He had better things to concentrate on, like the treacle tart Lily had made for him.

 

Next few days proved tiring for Harry and the other teenagers. As the house hadn’t been lived in for more than a decade, and the pathetic house-elf Kreacher was no good what-so-ever, the group, along with Lily, Molly, James and Sirius had been busy cleaning it to make inhabitable. The elders had regular Order meetings to cope with as well, at which none of them, except Cedric Diggory was allowed.

A week later, Harry got up to find a pleasant surprise, as he heard a far too well-known voice in his room.

“Hermione!” he shouted over to her, as he wore his glasses, waking Ron up in the process.

The bushy haired girl hugged him and Ron, the latter doing so a bit embarrassed.

“I just got here,” said Hermione. “So, what have you been doing all this time?” she asked.

“Cleaning!” both Harry and Ron responded, offended.

“Cool!” she said.

“Cool?” cried Fred, as he and George apparated in the room, causing Hermione to fall back in shock. “Let’s see if you can survive one day under the directions of mum and Lily!”

“Do they do that often?” asked Hermione, in reference to their apparation.

“Oh, don’t ask,” said Ron at the same time when Harry said, “All the time!”

The twins went back with another loud CRACK. Ron and Harry filled in Hermione about the little bits they knew due to James and Sirius’ liberty — that the Order was trying to inconspicuously make people believe that Voldemort had returned, and the members were guarding some sort of weapon which Voldemort did not have the last time. Harry, Ron and the twins had spent a lot of time trying to get to know what that weapon was, but with no luck. Meanwhile, the Ministry was going all against Dumbledore and Harry — which was immediately judged as foolhardy and completely ignored by them.

At the breakfast, Harry was surprised when Lily asked him, “Harry, can your dad and I have a word with you after you’ve eaten.”

He nodded, but he couldn’t think of what they might be wanting to talk to him about.

Let’s just say, saying he was surprised afterwards would be the understatement of the century.

 

(Hah! A cliffhanger! I know I'm evil *grins maniacally*)

Living with Family and Friends

 

Lily took Harry to her and James’ bedroom and James closed the door behind him.

“Harry —” James began.

“Yes dad?”

“I can’t do this Lils!” James moaned, turning to Lily. “This is even harder than proposing you!”

“Yes you can, and you will!” Lily firmly replied. “As for proposing me, it wasn’t all that hard for what I know — seeing you did it five times a day — for four long years!”

Harry sniggered before turning his attention back at James.

“Harry . . . D’uwana’veasiblin?” James said in a single breath.

“Sorry dad, but what?”

“Well . . . will you be happy with a . . . sibling . . . ? Do you want . . . er . . . to have a sibling? I mean . . .  I understand . . . you might not want the responsibility of a younger sister or brother . . . since you’re used to living alone . . . and have already have too much burden.  . . . Your experience with your only cousin hasn’t been a nice one. . . . I and your mother thought . . . it would be better to . . . ask you whether — well — you know?”

“What — a sibling?” Harry said. “I get to be an elder brother?”

“I thought you wouldn’t want to,” said James quickly. “I understand, I just thought I’d —”

“Are you insane?” said Harry, his voice easily as croaky as James’. “Of course I want to have a sibling! Or siblings‼”

James turned back to look at him.

“You want to?” he said. “You mean it?”

“Yeah, I mean it!” said Harry.

Both James and Lily’s broke into the biggest grin Harry had seen on their faces, and hugged him fiercely.

 

Harry was having the best time of his life. Everyone beside him disliked cleaning, which, in Ron’s words was ‘working like house elves’, giving Hermione another excuse to shout out about S.P.E.W., but Harry was fine with it. He enjoyed working with everyone, listening to Sirius’ and James’ rants and Fred and George’s jokes. He loved eating the food cooked by his mother, which he had never been lucky enough to have tasted before. He loved how James shared his like for treacle tart. He missed Quidditch, but enjoyed being audience to Fred and George’s private lessons at the hands of James, Sirius and sometimes Remus, which had resulted in a number of pranks casted upon the members of Grimmauld Place.

He immensely enjoyed spending time with Tonks, who was much more hilarious than she had first appeared and told stories about her stupidity or listened to how they had confronted the Dursleys over and over ; or with Kingsley, discussing about Auror training and tasks. Even Mad-Eye was a pleasure to sit with, as he listened to him going on about how he had caught a number of Death Eaters. Most of all he loved the Animagus lessons he was taking in secret with his father and godfather, which even Ron and Hermione didn’t know about.

He remembered the day they had begun only too well. It was about a week after he had come to Grimmauld Place:

“Psst! Over here, Harry,” Sirius had whispered from the door of the drawing room the group was cleaning.

“What?” he asked.

“Shh! Keep your voice down,” James whispered. “Follow us, c’mon.”

They led him to the basement.

“Descendo,” muttered Sirius, pointing his wand at the low ceiling. A hatch opened right over their heads and a ladder slid down to their feet.

“Clever, isn’t it?” James said. “People might wonder about a basement under a basement, but not one over it!”

“Yeah, we’ve got a basement attic on the first floor, no one knows about it,” Sirius said as he climbed the ladder.

They found themselves in a well-lit room with cozy red couches at the far end and a lot of free space in the centre.

“You’ll be having your animagus lessons here, son,” James said. “For now, no one should know about it.”

Before Harry could open his mouth, Sirius said, “Not even Hermione and Ron, for now.” Looking around, he told Harry, “Even my parents didn’t know about this room. This secret had died with the builders, but most unfortunately for them, I’d found it in my second year and this has been my hideout since then. If your dad wanted to visit me, he would apparate in here.”

“That explains the Gryffindor decorations,” muttered Harry.

“Just . . . keep this secret to yourselves. No one except for us three should know about the existence of this place until necessary. Maybe sometime in future, the Order might need a hideout from some traitor,” Sirius said with a smirk.

“So, enough of this,” James said. “Let’s get started with your lessons.”

“This,” he said pointing to a small vial in his hand, “is a potion which helps us discover our inner animal. It took us two years to gather information about it and prepare it.”

“Fortunately for you,” said Sirius, “you’ve got us to help you out, thus saving two years of your effort.”

“The discovery is easy,” said James. “The latter part, which involves the actual transformation, is difficult and dangerous. But you needn’t worry; you’ve got specialists here for your help.”

“We’ll come to the second part later, let’s tell you about what exactly you should expect with this potion,” Sirius said. “Now, I’m going to go, so that people don’t generate suspicions towards us three, I’ll cook up some story to explain your disappearance.”

As Sirius left, James began. “You know, transfiguration of inanimate objects into one another is the easiest, and transfiguring animate into inanimate and vice versa, is tad bit difficult.”

“Yeah, we’ve done both at school,” said Harry.

“Good,” James said. “What you haven’t done on a vast scale is transfiguration of one animate object into another. It follows certain rules and principals. For example, you cannot convert a snail into a rat because a rat is a mammal and a snail isn’t. You can convert a rat into a rabbit, as both are rodents. As you can convert a Rohu into a Salmon, but not a Salmon into a whale, for you must be knowing that a whale is a mammal.  Salmon and Rohu are not. Following me so far?”

“Yes,” Harry said confidently. He had been hanging on each and every word his father had been speaking.

“Human transformations are even more difficult,” James said. “You cannot just transform any person into any animal. A human can be transformed into their animagus form only — so, going under transfiguration by someone else’s wand is one of the methods used for discovering the animagus form, but it’s a bit unreliable. Few can do it accurately, and I’m not going to take chances on my son.”

As James stopped for breath, Harry, who had been trying to control himself, burst out into laughter.

“What’s so funny?” James asked, amused.

“Nothing . . . it’s just . . . Moody . . . Barty Crouch . . . had used . . . animal transfiguration on . . . Malfoy . . . and he had . . . turned into a . . . FERRET!” Harry spoke between fits of laughter.

James started laughing with him. After five minutes, as their laughter subsided, Harry spoke again, “I can’t believe it! Malfoy’s animagus would be a — a — ferret!” and the two started laughing again.

“What are you two laughing at,” Sirius Black spoke, as he reentered the room. Harry explained the reason and Sirius doubled over, laughing harder than ever.

“Lucius Malfoy’s . . . son . . . a . . . a . . . FERRET?” he gasped.

“Atleast . . . Malfoy’s cute in . . . animal form,” Harry managed to say with difficulty.

“Okay, enough of it, back to the task,” James managed to say with a straight face, before the trio went roaring with laughter once more.

After a quarter of an hour of messing around, Harry stood up, “Okay, that’s enough, dad, Padfoot, let’s get back.”

Almost reluctantly, the two Marauders stood up.

“So, son, I told you about human transfigurations. Now, this potion does the same work in an easier manner,” said James, pointing once more to the vial. “Instead of converting you, it gives you visions of your inner animal or animals.”

“You mean to say more than one animagus forms are possible?” Harry asked.

“Yes,” said Sirius. “Dumbledore is said to have two animagi, one of them being a Phoenix. Though, we haven’t ever seen him transform, so it could be a rumor. Maybe, people consider Fawkes to be his animagus, which isn’t possible, because I’ve seen them in same room together hundreds of times.”

“Yep,” James spoke. “Dumbledore isn’t even listed in the seven known animagi of the century. But, though punishable, there must be a lot of unregistered animagi amongst us.”

“Yeah,” said Harry. “Rita Skeeter is one, her animagus being a beetle.”

“Let’s not dither from the topic again,” James said before Sirius could ask more about Rita Skeeter. “Merlin is known to have had three forms, including a Dragon. Usually, the animagus form is a common creature and not a magical one, but powerful wizards are known to have magical animagus forms, and a few very powerful ones even have two. Three is nearly unheard of. Voldemort is said to have just one —”

“A snake?” Harry asked.

“Yes, a Snake,” Sirius said.

“We suppose you might be having that one as an addition to your own form or forms,” Sirius said, “considering you can speak Parsletongue.”

“So, anyone who can speak Parsletongue is supposed to have a snake as their animagus?” Harry asked.

“Yes,” said James. “Mostly, even in their human form, an animagus can talk to their kind. Sirius here can speak to dogs,” he said. “And Pettigrew could talk to rats.”

“And you?” asked Harry.

“Haven’t tried yet,” James said. “Stags aren’t exactly easy to catch when you’re a human, are they?”

Harry shook his head.

“So, you want to try the potion today?” Sirius asked, looking eager.

“Of course!” Harry replied.

“So, what’re we waiting for? Here, take this,” James said, handing the vial to Harry.

As Harry gulped the potion down his throat, he found himself drifting into a sleep.

The darkness around him cleared, he found himself in a thick forest. ‘Forbidden Forest?’ he wondered. But the trees were younger and the ground wasn’t as thickly covered in vegetation. A loud roar startled him. He turned around, coming face to face with a majestic Lion, basking in the glory of his lordship over the jungle. He hadn’t seemed to have seen Harry. As Harry crept closer, he noticed a scar in the shape of a bolt of lightning, very much like his own, on the Lion’s head.

Darkness crept in once more. Before his eyes could adjust to the darkness, Harry found himself in broad daylight near a beautiful lake. A dragon was flying overhead. As the dragon lowered itself to the shore of the lake, Harry jumped on its back. He saw that the dragon had a scar in the same lightning bolt shape on its neck.

Harry felt thrilled as he once again lost himself into darkness. As light flooded in for the third time, he found himself surrounded in blue. ‘I’m underwater’, he thought to himself. As he steadied himself to the flow of current, he saw a huge shark coming in his direction. It had a scar, once again the same one which had given Harry the identity of ‘The Boy who Lived’ on its snout.

Harry expected to wake up now as darkness enveloped him again, he had seen three forms and had covered up the limit. He felt a bit scared when he saw the light filling around him for the fourth time. He found himself in some sort of desert. As he turned around to look about him, a snake larger than any he had ever seen slithered towards him. The boa-constrictor he had freed when he was ten would have looked tiny in front of it. As he leapt closer to the beast, he found himself looking straight into the eyes of a Basilisk, but he did not die, or fall unconscious. The monster supported the same scar as Harry’s between the folds of skin on its head.

He stared at it as darkness found him once more.

“He’s up!” Sirius yelled.

“You’d been out for more than a quarter of an hour,” James said. “You gave us quite a heart attack. It took us less than five minutes each. So, what did you see?”

Harry recounted in detail what he had seen.

“Blimey! You beat Merlin! You’ve got four forms?” James asked, seeming enthusiastic.

“Why does everything related to you have to be so complex?” Sirius asked. “Now, we need a water body to practice your Shark form, and then another Chamber of Secrets for your Basilisk one and a huge place for your Dragon form. The simplest you have is a Lion, Harry!”

Harry’s face fell.

“Don’t worry son, we’ll find a way.”

“But dad — I could kill anyone with one look when I’m a Basilisk, a Dragon’s not safe to go anywhere near either, and you can’t get underwater to help me with the Shark. Sirius’s right, my simplest one is a Lion, and that’s not danger free either. I’m giving up. I’m a monster.”

“Are you mad?” both James and Sirius yelled.

“‘Risk beyond measure, is a Marauder’s greatest treasure’.” Sirius quoted.

“You could keep your eyes shut as a Basilisk,” James began. “As for where to practice, I’ve got just two words to say — Potter Manor!”

“Brilliant!” Sirius yelled. “It didn’t even enter my mind.That’s absolutely perfect!”

“What exactly do you mean?” Harry asked.

“Oh, you’ll see,” James replied. “We’ll start with your Lion form. Once you get to how to transform, and learn to control your animalistic emotions, we can move to the next ones. And when you’ve mastered one form, others will come so naturally to you that you could work on them even without us.”

Harry’s spirits rose again. “Thanks, dad,” he said. “When can we start?” he asked both of them, with a pleading look on his face, which unfortunately didn’t work.

“Not today,” Sirius said sternly. “We’ve taken too much time already. I reckon others might be searching us as we speak. We’ll call you tomorrow or day after, when the coast is clear.”

“Well, that’s settled. Now, let’s go,” James said.

Since then, the three had been practicing in that room whenever they got time to sneak away. Harry had already got an acceptable control on his emotions when transformed, and had nearly mastered his Lion form. They were now working to perfection, and he could not wait for the day they would take him to Potter Manor to practice the others.

 

Besides helping him with his Animagus forms, James and Sirius were busy at the moment to make Harry’s birthday the best one he had ever had. Even Lily was working hard to make it worthwhile, though she kept telling the two not to spoil him too much. Not that Harry knew anything about it. He had been kept out of this by keeping him busy in cleaning.

Order meetings had been taking place regularly, and people moved in and out daily, much to the annoyance of the portrait of Sirius’ mother. Fred and George’s attempts to overhear the conversations using Extendable Ears had been subsided since the day Mrs. Weasley had spotted the two eavesdropping, standing on the landing.

Hermione had been pestering Harry and Ron, as usual, to complete their homework as soon as possible to which they retorted, “But we’ve over a month left!”

Hermione, being Hermione, asked them to finish it earlier so that they could enjoy the rest of the vacations in peace.

The worst incident that had occurred was when Mrs. Weasley had tried to go to where Percy was staying in London to talk to him, and he had slammed the door in her face. She had been crying nonstop whole day.

 

On his birthday, Harry woke up early. He was feeling truly excited for this day for the first time in his life — eager to see what his parents were going to do. He found the house to be quiet to such an extent that it appeared eerie to him. Ron was not there in his bed.

He made his way downstairs. Ron met him in the hallway.

“Where’s everyone?” Harry asked.

“Out for some work — Order’s work I reckon,” Ron said. “Remus’ waiting for us, we’ve got to go to the Diagon Alley to bring school stuff.”

Harry felt deflated. Ron hadn’t even wished him. His best friend had forgotten his birthday.

“We haven’t got our book-lists yet,” he said.

“Oh right — er — I need new dress robes and — er — the twins need some stuff from — Apothecary.”

“Alright,” said Harry. “Where are Fred, George and Hermione?”

“At the burrow — Fleur’s paying a visit. Ginny wanted Hermione to tag along, and Fred and George had to pick some stuff up.”

“Fine,” Harry said. He really hoped that Hermione hadn’t forgotten and would wish him when they got back.

 

Fifteen minutes later, he flooed to Diagon Alley with Ron and Remus Lupin.

“Let’s go to Madam Malkin’s first,” Harry suggested.

“Oh no,” said Ron. “I just remembered. Fred and George bought me a new set of dress robes last week. I don’t know where they even got the money from.”

Harry smiled. He knew exactly how the twins had got the money, not that he was going to tell Ron about it.

“Alright, Apothecary then?”

“Yeah,” Ron muttered.

The ‘stuff’ from Apothecary turned out to be a scoop of glittery-black beetle eyes.

“You could have asked for that from me. I’ve got more than ten scoops of that in my potions kit,” he snarled at Ron.

Ron’s ears went red. He said, “Well — er — Fred asked me to get — er — fresh ones.”

“Oh, right,” Harry muttered.

“Done with Apothecary?” Remus asked them. “C’mon then, let’s go to Flourish and Blotts, I’ve got some books to purchase for myself,” and then drawing a long scroll of parchment, he added, “and for Hermione.”

Both the boys groaned as one.

Harry engaged himself in Dark Arts Defenses: An Extensive Study as Lupin moved around, searching for the books he required. On the other hand, Ron found solace in A Guide to How a Witch’s mind Works, something he wouldn’t have dared to do in presence of Mrs. Weasley.

An hour and a half later, the two boys found themselves leaving the bookstore with Remus, each carrying a heavy stack of books. The three went to Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlor to treat themselves with a sundae each.

“I’ve got something urgent to do,” Remus spoke up. “Can I trust you two to remain in Diagon Alley and not wander off?”

Harry nodded.

“Good. I’ll be back in an hour, meet me at this place only.”

So, for one hour, the two boys roamed about, had some snacks, and paid a visit to Quality Quidditch Supplies.

An hour later, Remus returned.

“Let’s get back to Grimmauld Place now,” he said.

Remus went first, followed by Ron.

As Harry flooed back, he found himself thrown out of the fireplace, which extinguished the next moment, leaving himself in complete darkness.

“Ron? Remus?” he called out. He got no reply back.

I’d spoken clearly, I couldn’t have got out of the wrong grate, he thought to himself.

As he drew his wand out, the place flooded with blinding light, forcing him to close his eyes.

Once adjusted to the light, he found his eyes opening to beautifully decorated living room of Black’s house. A chorus of ‘Happy Birthday, Harry’ erupted from behind the couches, the fireplace and every imaginable hiding place, and he found a huge grin working up to his face.

Lily Potter emerged and beamed at her son, who rushed forward to hug her and was joined by James the next instant.

“T-Thanks,” Harry muttered as he found himself at a loss of words.

“Thought your parents had forgotten your birthday?” James questioned, grinning widely.

Sirius came out and hugged him as well. “There,” he said pointing to a huge pile of presents — the biggest one Harry had ever seen, “Forty-six,” Sirius grinned. “Two more than Dudley would have received this year! Counted them myself,” he said, thumping his chest.

Harry could not help but laugh at this.

“Out of the way, out of the way!” sang Mrs. Weasley, coming through the door with what appeared to be a giant miniature dragon — a Hungarian Horntail — flying in front of her. Seconds later Harry realized that it was his birthday cake, which Mrs. Weasley was suspending with her wand, rather than risk carrying it. When the cake had finally landed in the middle of the table, Harry said, “That looks amazing, Mrs. Weasley.”

“Ah, thanks Harry, but it’s all Lily’s efforts!” she said. “Happy birthday, by the way.”

“Thanks Mrs. Weasley,” Harry said.

He looked around to see who all had come for the party. Almost everyone from the Order, except for Snape and Dumbledore, was there.

“Wotcher, Harry!” Tonks called. “Happy Birthday!”

“Thanks Tonks,” he said, controlling his laughter when the young witch stumbled over her feet as she tried to come forward to hug him, and fell over Remus Lupin, knocking him down as well.

“Sorry,” she said, blushing, as her hair turned tomato red. Everyone laughed.

After receiving greetings from everyone and blessings from elders, Harry was urged to cut the dragon shaped cake. As he blew out the candles, a new person joined the birthday party — none other than Albus Dumbledore.

“Happy Birthday, Harry!” he said, his blue eyes twinkling brightly behind the half-moon spectacles. “My apologies for the delay. I’m afraid I got caught somewhere else.”

“No worries, Albus,” Mrs. Weasley said he sat down on an empty chair.

“May I have a word with you, Harry?” Dumbledore asked.

“Yes sir,” Harry nodded and followed him into the hallway.

“First of all, Harry, I wish to offer my apologies,” he said.

“For what, Professor?”

“Well, you see, it was I who sent you to your Aunt’s place. I did not know that you were being mistreated, or I wouldn’t have left you there.”

“It’s alright, Professor. That’s past now, I’ve forgotten the Dursleys for good,” Harry said.

“Ah, there is one more thing then. You know, Prefects are selected from amongst the fifth years. Of course you are my and Minerva’s first choice, but we wished to ask for your opinion first, considering you’ve already got a lot to cope with.”

“What’s the alternative professor, if you don’t mind me asking,” Harry said.

“Not at all, Harry. Ronald Weasley will be our next preference.”

Harry thought about it. Ron had never had the chance to prove himself. It wasn’t that he was better than Ron; it was just the circumstances which made him look great. Ron did deserve this opportunity, and Harry was not going to stand in the way of Ron’s achievement.

“I don’t want to be a Prefect, sir,” he politely told Dumbledore.

“You’re sure, Harry?”

“Yes sir. But please keep this information to yourself and Professor McGonagall”

“Very well. Now let’s not take away more of the time from your party.”

The two went inside, and party resumed. The cake was shared. Delicacies appraised and complimented. The Weasley Twins urged Harry to open his presents then and there, much to his annoyance.

He opened the largest of the presents, wrapped in red paper first, which was from his father. It turned out to be a muggle television set — an oddity in magical world, thus drawing everyone’s attention.

“For the holidays,” James explained. “I, Lily, Remus and Arthur have worked upon it so that it can work without electricity.”

“That one now!” Sirius shouted over, pointing to a box in gold. It was a giant CD case, having a rather large collection of muggle movies and games.

“I’ve always wanted to watch a muggle movie,” Tonks said, eyeing it.

“Yeah, we’ll all watch one together, please,” Harry said, giving everyone a pleading look.

As everyone nodded, Remus asked, “Which one are we going to watch then, Harry?”

Harry looked around to the eager and excited faces. His gaze fell on Dumbledore and he yelled, “The Wizard of Oz!”

All those who could make out a connection, and were not Hermione, doubled up with laughter.

Sirius had given him a candy shop’s worth of sweets, while he got a huge collection of rare books on Defense Against the Dark Arts from Remus Lupin.

Hermione had got him a chocolate cake and a two-year subscription to Quidditch Weekly. Ron had given him more candy. Bill gave him an Egyptian Pyramid, but kept rather secretive regarding it. Later, it was found that it opened when kept down, and a mummy emerged from inside, which frightened Hermione and caused Tonks to tumble over.

Charlie had sent him the model of the Hungarian Horntail he had picked out of the bag for his first task. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley gave him a large platter of home-made cookies. Ginny gave him a diary and a beautiful greeting card with another one of her poems (Harry sheepishly remembered the first one he had got on the Valentine’s Day back in his second year, and was relieved it wasn’t even distantly related to that one).

Cedric Diggory had given him more spell books for fighting the Dark Arts, more sweets, and a special book named How to befool the Hogwarts Caretakers, which got a laugh from everyone, and a ‘Not that he would need it’ comment from the Weasley twins.

Albus Dumbledore had given him his personal works on Defense Against the Dark Arts, which caught everyone’s eye.

Harry was surprised when he found a present from Ludo Bagman. It was the golden egg he had retrieved in his first task. He halfheartedly opened it and was rather pleased when he did not hear the wails it used to previously whenever he opened it. It was empty but still a memorable thing to keep. He also got a batch of French cookies and other sweets from Fleur Delacour.

He also received a poorly wrapped present containing six single brightly coloured socks from Dobby; and homemade chocolate cake and pasties from Hagrid.

Tonks, Kingsley and Mad-Eye had given him a rather large collection on books on Aurors, including Popular Aurors of Twentieth Century, Seven Tips for an Auror’s Success, From the Quill of Auror Department Heads and many more.

By the time he had opened all presents save those from Weasley Twins and the ones from his parents, he could boast of having more candy than two Honeydukes shops combined, but thankfully there were enough people at Grimmauld Place to share it with.

Almost reluctantly, he turned to the Weasley Twins’ presents. He knew better than to expect something straight from them. He removed the wrapping paper to reveal three boxes kept one over the other.

He opened the first box to reveal a mound of books on . . . POTIONS?

“Snape reckons you’re dumber than a troll at potions,” Fred said.

“So we thought you might as well learn a bit more,” said George.

“In potions, books are better teachers!” said Fred.

“So, there you go . . . all the books ever owned by Fred and me, on potions,” George finished.

“Fred . . . George . . . we’re talking about Harry, not Neville Longbottom,” Ron said. “And again, Harry and not Hermione!” he added.

“Care to explain?” Hermione smugly said.

“Well — er — Harry is bad at potions — but I’m as bad — and it’s Neville who’s got troll brains on potions.” Ron elaborated. “And then — Hermione’s the one who reads books on boring subjects, not Harry!”

“Well,” Dumbledore spoke up, “Now with Lily here, I don’t think Harry will ever feel the need for another Potions Master. She is clearly as good at Severus!”

Lily blushed as everyone looked at her in awe.

Harry moved on to the second box. He had barely opened it when a head peeped out, firstly belonging to Snape and then changing to Malfoy.

“Hated hags —” Fred said.

“— tells you whom you hate the most —,” George said.

“— got the idea from Boggarts —” said Fred.

“— but looks like your soul has more hatred than usual, you got two heads!” George said.

“Yeah, I could never decide whom I hate most,” Harry said. “Snape or Malfoy!”

Many people gave it a go afterwards. Ron got Draco Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle; Hermione got Rita Skeeter; Sirius got his mother and Bellatrix’s head switching places; Remus got Dumbledore; James got Snape and Vernon Dursley; but surprisingly Lily got none.

“Looks like Lily-flower has got a loving soul,” James said.

“Ah yes!” Dumbledore said. “But may I know why you hate me so much Remus?”

“For sending Harry to the Dursleys I suppose!” Remus snarled at him.

Harry felt his heart warming once more to the affection his father’s second best friend held for him. He got up and hugged Remus.

The third box turned out to be the real one. It included a lot of joke stuff from Fred and George, wrapped up separately to save it from the eyes of those who will later fall prey to them. It also contained the twins’ entire Chocolate Frog Card collection, which they had given to Harry to add to his.

Harry turned to the large pile of presents from his parents.

The first one held a note saying — “Memories from first birthday”. It included a toy broomstick (similar to the one Sirius had gifted to him on his actual first birthday), stuffed animals — a wolf, a dog and a stag and a lot of other toys.

Then, there was a box for each of Harry’s next fourteen birthdays, from second to fifteenth.

For his second birthday, Harry got storybooks including The Tales of Beedle the Bard and a lot others, more toys and some candy.

For his third one, he got more books, toys and candy.

It went on till he got a picture of a broomstick on his eighth birthday. (Lily explained that he already had one so they needn’t buy a new one.)

For his tenth, he got a puppy — a dark brown and white beagle.

He got more books, sweets, toys, clothes and a lot of different things for subsequent years.

Finally, for his fifteenth birthday, he received a particularly small box with a note instructing him to open it later, when alone.

Thus, after an hour and a half of present opening, he found himself sitting with the others watching The Wizard of Oz, with Snitch (the beagle) sitting on his lap.

It was nearly midnight when Harry returned to his room, laden with his presents, dead-tired, but really very happy. He hadn’t been amongst those who looked forward to birthdays, but his mindset had changed now. This had been one of the best days in his life.

He sat down on his bed to open the small box which everyone had been so curious about. The packing held a very small jewelry case, in which lay on red velvet a beautiful ring. Harry didn’t have much knowledge of jewelry, but even he could tell that the ring was a specimen of brilliant craftsmanship. The band was an intricately woven pattern of platinum and gold with diamonds in between, which ended in two fire-opals lying opposite to each other, showcasing a red diamond in the centre.

Another note had fallen out of the case. It said:

Dear Harry,

This is the ring my father proposed my mother with. The same one Lily wore on her finger when she agreed to marry me. It has been in our family for a long time. Hope you’ll make the best decision when time comes and may this ring lie on the finger of the girl who completes you.

Your father,

James.

P.S. I got it when I came of age, so did my father and his father, but I suppose having the Darkest Wizard on your tail has got its own perks!

Harry smiled. He had made a lot of guesses regarding this last present, but he hadn’t definitely imagined this. He looked fondly at the ring, before locking it with a spell and securely keeping it inside his trunk. Finally, with a wide smile on his face, he fell asleep.

Imprint

Text: Arianna Waters
Images: Arianna Waters
Publication Date: 03-06-2016

All Rights Reserved