Chapter Fourteen: The Last Year

 Ten year old Harry Potter stood silently, his head bowed, dressed all in black, a single tear sliding down his pale cheek. Somewhere behind him, Sirius was waiting, and Harry held a yellow belt fabric belt in his hands.

 Kneeling, he secured it around a gravestone which had engraved upon it, "Dan Kellith, Loyal Friend, Loving Son, Happy Child. He died to young. Rest in Peace."

 "It should have been yours by now," Harry whispered around the painful ball of grief that was lodged in his through. "It, and a lot more. You didn't deserve to die Dan … But you'll always be my friend, my best friend. Now and forever."

 He remained there, kneeling, as above him black storm clouds opened and rain poured down in a torrent. One year ago today, Dan had been alive and ready to celebrate his birthday. Now he was dead, and grass was growing over his grave.

 Harry ignored the freezing rain, ignored the howling wind, that mingled with Sirius's calls that they should leave soon. His eyes looked back to the past.

 He remembered all of the good times that he and Dan had had, Dan, the first person, aside from Sirius, who Harry had really trusted. Dan, the person who taught Harry to make sense of chemistry. Dan, the person who had listened to Harry's great secret, and had believed in him.

 Dan, who now lay, dead beneath the ground. Who never laugh again. Who would never become a black belt in Tae-Kwon-Do. Who would never play monopoly. Never discover something huge in the field of science…

 A hand descended lightly on Harry's shoulder. "Harry, the rain is heavy, you have paid your respects to Dan now, as I have, but we're both getting soaked," Sirius murmured in his godsons ear.

 Harry nodded and stood up. "I'll come back," he promised Dan. "Every year, on the 19th of August, I'll come back here, to let you know that I haven't forgotten you. Every day, I'll remember you though. You were my first real friend, and we should have been born brothers. I'll never stop missing you."

 Then he turned his back on the grave and walked, beside Sirius, at a stately pace out of the cemetery, not once looking back.

 Half an hour later they both sat, dry and warm, sipping hog butterbeer before a roaring fire in Potter Mansion. Harry's black hair was tousled after it's vigorous drying by Kiby.

 Harry spoke little that day, his mind on his best friend. He ate only when told to, and didn't laugh or joke or play pranks as he usually did. He wore black all day, in remembrance.

 The next morning he was downstairs before Sirius was, and was eating breakfast in the small room that usually at in when Sirius came in.

 He still looked pale, but he was wearing emerald robes, edged with gold that made his eyes stand out. "Good morning," he said softly when Sirius sat down.

 "I hoped you wouldn't morn forever," Sirius remarked softly. "I know how it feels Harry, you know I do, but life goes on, no matter how much you wish it wouldn't."

 "I know Sirius," Harry replied. "Dan would not want me to cry and morn forever. He loved laughter and pranks and stuff, and I won't forget that. One day a year I'll morn what could have been, the rest of them I'll set to living myself, as Dan would have wanted."

 Sirius nodded approvingly. "I eventually came to the same realisation, after James died … It was quicker for me, I think, both because I was older, and because I had you – I didn't have that much time to morn."

 "But you still morn on All Hallow's Eve," Harry pointed out.

 "Like you, I give my best friend one day of the year," Sirius replied.

 "Next year I'll be going to Hogwarts," Harry remarked suddenly.

 "Yes, you will be. We'll have to put some thought as to how you'll get there to … You won't be able to go as you, but otherwise you won't be invited to attend …"

 "There will be a way," Harry replied firmly. "I don't have to go back to Muggle school, do I?"

 "No. I know you don't want to be around children so soon after Dan's death, and you missed out on most of last year. You can stay here and learn what you what you want to," Sirius replied.

 Harry nodded his thanks. He was looking forward to going to Hogwarts – it would be good to learn magic properly, and learn to use a wand, instead of tiring himself out using the Wandless method that he was blessed – or cursed – with.

 He was getting better now, though as before some days were worse than others. On bad days, he might be able to manage five spells before he was completely worn out, a good day, maybe up to ten. Depending, of course, on the type of spells he used.

 In the day he often spent his time in the air, mounted on his broom, revelling the simple freedom of the open sky. Or he would be inside, planning pranks to play on Sirius and the portraits – never the house elves.

 He knew that it would upset the house elves greatly, and he like them, so he let them be.

 Sirius watched Harry sadly. His godson had become cold and distant with almost everyone and everything. He disliked going out, because there were crowds, and the only person he wanted to talk to was Sirius.

 But Sirius knew what it was like to lose a friend, and was confident that Harry would get over it in time.

 The year passed. The only thing that Harry ever wanted to do outside of Potter Mansion and Grimmauld Place was to go to Tae-Kwon-Do classes.

 Harry didn't spend much time studying normal magics, though he did research Wandless Magic and Metamorphmagic quite diligently. Sirius and Harry both knew that being too much of a know-it-all was not a good thing – it was one of the reasons that Harry had been bullied so much as a small child.

 Albus Dumbledore was standing in the office of the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge. "What is you want this time, Cornelius?" Dumbledore asked.

 Fudge had changed a lot since he had first become Minister. The day that he had ordered Dumbledore to forget about Harry Potter, claiming that the boy must certainly be dead, seemed to have been forgotten by the Minister completely. He relied upon Dumbledore's advice in complex situations, but rarely admitted to it.

 "This rise in Death Eater activities, what do you think it means?" the Minister asked.

 "I think that they do not believe that Harry Potter is dead, and are therefore trying to make sure that he will be soon," Dumbledore replied. He didn't mention that he agreed with the first part of the statement, knowing that he needed to keep Fudge's ear, at least for the moment.

 "But …" Stammered Fudge.

 "It is likely that they have some method of spying within the Ministry, and that they found out that the body the Aurors 'found' was not Harry Potter. Even if Harry most likely died, they have to be sure," Dumbledore continued.

 "They could not have a spy in the Ministry!" Fudge gasped indignantly.

 "They could easily," Dumbledore corrected him. "The spy may not be a willing one, but the Death Eaters do not flinch away from using the Unforgivable Curses, Cornelius."

 "You … you are right. But what can we do?" Fudge wanted to know.

 "Do as much as you can to protect anyone who could possibly be mistaken for Harry Potter," Dumbledore replied. "And do what you can to try and find out any spies in the Ministry. If you'll excuse me, I have to get back to Hogwarts. The new year is about to begin, and there is much to do."

 "Yes, yes of course. Come again tomorrow please," Fudge said.

 Dumbledore sighed inwardly, but nodded his head. "Very well," he said, and Flooed out, heading for his office.

 "What did he want this time?" Minerva wanted to know.