Disclaimer: I don't even own the computer to write this.
Chapter 6: Arriving at the Burrow
On Wednesday, July 31, Harry's birthday, Ron sent Harry only a small note, informing the friend that he looked forward to present him his birthday gift personally. The redhead had never been inventive when choosing birthday gifts or Christmas presents, but this year with his former job at the joke shop he was able to spend some more money than before. Together with Ginny he had bought an international standard Golden Snitch at Quality Quidditch Supplies.
Friday evening, August 2, Ron, Ginny, and their mother waited for Harry's arrival. Ron knew that Harry didn't like to be in the centre of attention and while Mrs. Weasley and Ginny had intended to organise a rather large birthday party for this evening he had finally been able to convince them to reduce their efforts on an only small feast. Nevertheless, both witches had invited nearly all Weasley children except Charly, who was still in Romania, but including Fleur Delacour, Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks. The latter two would pick up Harry together with Arthur Weasley per officially authorised Portkey.
At seven p.m. the Weasley Family clock chimed and Mr. Weasley's clockhand switched from 'at work' to 'travelling'. Another sixteen minutes elapsed before the clock chimed again, announcing that Mr. Weasley was 'at home'. And indeed a moment later someone knocked.
"They're coming," squeaked Ginny and Ron hurried to the front door. Through the window he saw four persons standing outside the Burrow, Arthur Weasley, Remus Lupin, Nymphadora Tonks and black-haired boy with spectacles. Ron opened and flinched at the sight of Harry, the pale, lean face with dark bags hanging under the green eyes, and far to wide shirt and trousers sagging off the even skinnier looking body. Within five weeks Harry's physical appearance had lost much of the boy who had led them into the Department of Mysteries. And his eyes, the most striking attribute of his face except for the lightening-bolt scar, had lost their blaze and their brightness.
"Hi mate," said Ron. Ginny didn't say anything at all, she was surely taken aback by the appearance of their friend.
"Hi," answered Harry, audibly relieved to enter the Burrow.
Hesitating a moment Ron started again, "Happy Birthday to you."
"Thank you." Harry took the outstretched hand and smiled, at least slightly.
"Happy birthday, dear." Molly Weasley appeared at the door to welcome their guests and looked him over closely. "We really should do something about your clothing. Perhaps Diagon Alley - "
She was interrupted by the three adults entering the house. Initial hellos where shortened when the attention turned to Tonks just in time to watch her stumbling over the doorstep with Hedwig's cage loudly crashing down on the floor.
"Ah, well, where shall we leave the luggage?" asked Remus Lupin joyfully, with his wand manoeuvring the floating trunk. Ron couldn't suppress a grin when Tonks tried to lean against it and stumbled once more.
"Perhaps you two might bring it upstairs and show Harry his room?" Arthur Weasley addressed his children rather ordering than suggesting.
Ron didn't need a second call to leave the scene and clapped on Harry's shoulder. "C'mon. You'll sleep in the twins' old room." Tonks handed the owl cage to Ginny and both boys took the trunk. The room was on the second floor, opposite Percy's old room, which now was used as a bedroom for occasional guests – often members of the Order of the Phoenix.
When Harry looked around his new accommodation, Ron could tell that his friend felt uneasy.
"Hey. It's okay. Bill cleared the room of all that dangerous crap, the twins had left behind," he said to reassure the other.
Ginny grinned when Harry cautiously touched the bedsheets. "Before you lay down you should know what the blankets did until Bill finished them off." She put the cage on a desk near the opened window, waiting for Hedwig's arrival.
"You have your own desk, a wardrobe and you can lock yourself in, if something bothers you," explained Ron, "Ginny does it all the time."
"I have to," she answered annoyed. "Ron pries about the letters I write to Dean."
"I don't pry."
"Yes, you do!"
"No, I don't!"
"But you did!"
"Only once when you left them lying around!"
The quarrel was interrupted when Mrs. Weasley called from downstairs, "Ginny, could you please set the table?"
Grumbling the girl left the room. On the doorstep she turned around and blew a raspberry at Ron before heading downstairs.
Scowling, Ron closed the door behind her and turned to Harry. "She switches from boyfriend to boyfriend as if it's nothing," he complained. "And Dean just jumped in on the chance."
Ron knew he exaggerated; Dean Thomas was her second boyfriend by now. As far as he knew - but she once was even dating Neville. Why couldn't she wait until Harry took notice of her? This summer was ideal to set those two up, but Ginny was writing to the git almost daily. She even 'borrowed' Pigwidgeon to deliver her love letters, of course without asking beforehand, and that traitorous beast seemed quite happy about it. The bird delivered the responses secretly to her room instead to the kitchen like every normal post owl did.
"So how was your summer with the Muggles?" he asked, while Harry was inspecting the wardrobe.
Harry shrugged. "It didn't differ from last summer." He opened his trunk and started to unpack his clothes.
"Wait, let me help you." Ron approached the trunk and inspected the content.
"Don't let Mum see that," he said and pulled a rumpled robe out of the chaos. Harry grabbed it and stuffed it into the wardrobe not even trying to smooth it out.
"Did you get any news?" Ron asked while unwrapping an outworn trainer rolled up in a shirt wide enough to house a magical tent. "I mean, about You-Know-Who and the rest?" Holding the shoelace between thumb and index finger he let the trainer dangling in eye height. "Where is its counterpart?"
"Ron!" Harry snatched the shoe and sighed, "I didn't even get the Daily Prophet." With a bitter undertone he added, "the Order warded the Dursleys' against all unknown owls."
"Me neither," the redhead replied while looking for the other trainer. "At least not much. Mum tries to keep everything from us. Dad disagrees but who is he to go against our Mum." He pulled Harry's scarlet Quidditch robe out of a clump of crumpled parchments and old socks. "Here, look. This you should better take care of. You'll need it this year."
Harry reached for it and placed it with the other school robes. He seemed to be slightly over the edge, Ron mused, while further rummaging through the trunk extracting some pairs of huge trousers.
He smoothed them out and hung them over a stool, critically eyeing the wide backside. "Besides your robes, is anything in there that fits you at least half decently?"
"Only the last Weasley Jumper," the other teen answered. "Perhaps a bit too woolly at the moment." He slovenly folded the outworn hand-me-downs he had 'inherited' from Dudley and stuffed them in a shelf of the wardrobe.
Ron piled Harry's old schoolbooks on the desk but stopped when he reached a layer of definitely oversized underwear. "Err, Harry? You may unload the rest by yourself."
When they eventually returned downstairs, the twins, Bill, and Fleur had already arrived. The part Veela was greeting Harry very enthusiastically. Too enthusiastically for Ron's taste, as she nearly oversaw him.
During dinner Ron observed Harry closely. He knew himself he was thick and nonsensitive, but he noticed Harry spent most of the dinner in silence and didn't eat much. He never shovelled nearly as much food down as Ron, but now he ate suspiciously few. When Mrs. Weasley wasn't looking Harry even shove half of his meat on Ron's plate and firmly rejected a second helping.
Altogether Harry was exactly in the state described by Hermione's book.
---
It was unnerving to be watched by the entire Weasley family. How much did they know about his destiny? Did they know he alone was able to kill Voldemort? Normally Harry liked to be treated like a seventh son, but especially Mrs. Weasley fussed about him in a way which was embarrassing to the core.
After dinner everyone moved to the living room, were Harry had to open the birthday presents one by one. He really enjoyed it; it was one of the few occasions his mind drifted off from the Prophecy. He rejoiced over the Snitch from Ron and Ginny, Fred and George brought him a representative cross section of their Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes, and Bill handed over a book on curse breaking.
"A possible choice of career," the eldest Weasley son added.
When Harry was finished, the discussion soon turned to the war, to the displeasure of Molly Weasley. Indeed, the topic spoiled Harry's mood, too. When Ginny approached him with a tea tray, he shook his head. Again he was reminded of his destiny; it all came down to him. Even if none of them knew it, all their complains about Voldemort and his followers were directed at him. It was his task to end this - as soon as possible. Bill's book would become quite useful, soon. Perhaps the gift was even intended as a hint on how to prepare for the final reckoning. Harry was distracted when Fred and George plopped down at his side. However, their proposal of an own product line labelled Potter's Pleasantries wasn't suitable to cheer him up. The whole idea strongly reminded him of Lockhart.
Remus Lupin mentioned he held contact with some werewolf packs, who seceded from the wizarding world. At least some of these werewolves would join Voldemort in his attempt to overcome the government, but other more thoughtful minds feared the day Voldemort would succeed.
"He and his followers are racists, not only prejudiced against Muggles and Muggle-born, but also against all kind of non human beings and half-breeds," Lupin explained. "At the moment Voldemort" – several people flinched – "is able to offer much more than the wizarding world, especially with a biased government like this. But quite a few of us expect, soon after a victory of the dark side a hunt on werewolves, vampires, centaurs and other beasts and beings will begin and continue until the last one is dead."
"I've heard the same misgivings from Goblins," told Bill, "but they don't join our side either. Goblins are mostly interested in business, business with all kind of humans and beings. They would lose too many customers if they side with us."
Mr. Weasley nodded slightly. "The majority of the noble and wealthy wizarding families are leaning towards the dark side, even if only few of them support You-Know-Who directly. The problem is that as long as the Goblins remain neutral the Ministry can't confiscate or freeze the assets even of proven Death Eaters."
Harry's thoughts wandered off. Proven Death Eaters, like Sirius Black, imprisoned without a trial. Sirius had been able to purchase the Firebolt even though he was on the run from Azkaban.
Bill cut in, "The problem is, that the Ministry tries to put pressure on Gringotts. If Scrimgeour continues, it will backfire. It's merely a matter of time."
Things might have been different, if he hadn't spend twelve year in that prison – and another year in Dumbledore's cage. Things would have been different, if he, Harry, had remembered the two-way mirror Sirius had handed him last Christmas.
"It's Dolores Umbridge who tries to force Gringotts and its Goblins under ministerial control," Arthur Weasley explained. "It is an attempt to ensure the safety of our economy. We depend on the Goblins too much."
Bill disagreed. "Umbridge endangers our economy even further if she isn't stopped in time."
The words needed some moments to sink in, but then Harry looked up. "What's with Umbridge? That old toad?"
"She's Undersecretary at the Ministry," Bill explained, "special assistant to Rufus Scrimgeour, and that's the new Minister for Magic."
"She's back at the Ministry?" Ron looked bewildered. The information was news for him, too. "I thought she was in St. Mungo's."
Harry narrowed his eyes. "Why is the toad still in office and not in Azkaban?" His voice became louder. "Why isn't she charged for her crimes?"
The adults looked uncomfortable and exchanged glances. Molly Weasley tried to ease up the tension announcing, "I think there is still some dessert."
"Why isn't she in Azkaban yet?" Harry pressed on, his gaze wandering from Arthur Weasley to Remus Lupin and back.
"Would someone please help me serve the dessert?" Mrs. Weasley started again, now with a strict undertone. "Ginny? Ron?"
"No!" Ron simply ignored his mum, while Ginny refused firmly. "I want to hear an explanation, too."
"Well," Arthur Weasley hesitated.
"And it had better be good," Ron underlined, anticipating Harry.
His father sighed and started, "Dumbledore doesn't want to unduly stress our alliance with the Ministry right now."
"Our alliance? That bitch tried to kill me," Harry practically yelled.
"She sent the Dementors after me. She tried to drug me with Veritaserum and to Cruciate me. She admitted everything in front of a dozen people. Didn't Ron tell you?"
He turned to his friend. "You did tell them, didn't you?"
"Course, I did," Ron answered at once. "Mum went berserk when we told her the stories about the toad."
"I know McGonagall interrogated half of Hogwarts to collect material against her," Ginny chimed in. "I'm sure she found enough to bring her down twice."
Harry looked questioningly at Remus Lupin, but the man avoided his eyes and stared into the cup in his hands.
"Harry," he started almost pleadingly, "at the moment the Headmaster has just patched up his ties with the Ministry. And our society itself is still shaken by the return of Voldemort. To land the Undersecretary in Azkaban would cause even more uproar and further doubts in the efficiency of our government. And that's something we really don't need just now."
"But you are affected by her, too," the teenager retorted. "Didn't she draw the laws against werewolves?"
"We have to get rid of her one day," Lupin admitted, "not just now."
"I'd say the sooner the better," Bill grumbled, "before she scares off even the last of our potential allies."
Just then Mrs. Weasley returned with a plate of custard tarts. "Harry, dear, another tart?"
Harry hadn't even noticed that she had left beforehand. He shook his head and mumbled, "I think I go upstairs." He didn't really want to leave but at the moment he couldn't stand the surrounding people either. He stood up and bid everyone 'night'. Before he left the room, Remus Lupin held him back.
"Can I talk to you tomorrow?"
Harry nodded, but didn't ask for the reason. All he wanted now was to leave, to be alone, to head upstairs for 'his' room. But when he sat down on 'his' bed the uneasiness, he had felt earlier that day, returned. Harry had never wasted a thought on the sleeping arrangements at the Burrow. He had been certain he would share Ron's room. He had been sure he would spend the nights together with his friend, would hear the breaths and the snores from the other bed, would know there was someone else with him in the room. One who would wake him if the dreams became too turbulent like he had done the whole last school year.
Harry changed into his pyjamas and slid under the blanket. It did help that he stayed in the twins' room. For a while his concentration was focussed on the interior, musing what for traps they had installed. Neither Ron nor Ginny had explained what exactly the bedsheets had been capable of. But soon his mind turned back to the problem at hand and he simply stared at the ceiling, awaiting the dreams that would come soon. Harry didn't want to fall asleep, but nevertheless, he needed the information the dreams provided. He managed to stay awake until the last Weasley had rumbled upstairs, but then he drifted off to sleep.
Once more he awoke in the graveyard, already tied to the gravestone of Tom Riddle. About a dozen hooded Death Eaters were assembled around the grave, dimly lit by the half-moon, and in silence awaiting their master. Harry tried to scream, to insult them, but he wasn't able to produce any sound. He wasn't petrified. He could see everything around him, he could move his eyes, even his head, but no sound left his voice box.
The Death Eaters didn't care. They seemed to be absorbed in their thoughts and took no notice of him. They didn't even move at all, Harry realised, all of them were standing still like frozen, like statues. A glimmer of hope roused Harry to action. Perhaps there was a chance to loosen the grip of the manacles, to even escape without them noticing, but how much he tore at the ropes, it was to no avail.
Subconsciously he was aware this was a dream, a vision, a nightmare, but nevertheless just a dream. The teen closed his eyes and tried to breath deeply. Accidental Magic! Apparating, like all those years back. Wishing himself away, like back in elementary school. If only he knew how Apparating actually worked. Picturing oneself at the desired destination? He concentrated on himself anywhere else. Himself in his scarlet Gryffindor four poster. No, you can't Apparate into Hogwarts. The Burrow? Probably protected against Apparition, too. Privet Drive? Anywhere was better than here. Privet Drive, his bedroom, his cupboard. He tried to focus on his cupboard, his cot, himself covered by the blanket. He almost could feel the bedsheets. But then, against his will, his eyes opened, and he saw a tall figure manifesting in the dark.
The figure stepped forward and approached the gravestone, the face hidden beneath a long, dark hood and behind a typical Death Eater's mask. The other Death Eaters started to move, their head bowing and one by one they followed their leader. Was it Voldemort? No, he never hid his face like his minions.
"Harry Potter," a raspy, creepy voice emerged from behind the mask, "there was no doubt we would meet again."
With both hands the figure reached for the hood, and with a sudden movement threw it back. Harry gasped. His eyes widened in astonishment, and he stared at his opponent. What had seemed to be a slim, male figure like Lucius Malfoy or Voldemort himself just a moment ago, turned into a short, pudgy woman with the pale, toadlike face of Dolores Umbridge.
"You," Harry exclaimed angrily, "You're a Death Eater." He didn't even realise that he was able to speak again.
"Of course, I am," Umbridge answered with her almost unreal sweet voice.
The other figures drew nearer and formed a semicircle around the gravestone. Below their hoods Harry was able to recognise their masked faces, concealed behind ugly deformed replicas of their original features. Or did they even wear masks at all?
"What did you expect?" she continued softly and lifted her wand, aiming at Harry. She cracked a toadlike smile. "I must have been very convincing, if anyone really believed I was just following the dumb fool Fudge."
The other faces came nearer, hungrily awaiting further action. Now he could clearly see their distorted features, and all resembled Hogwarts students. Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, Zacharias Smith, Marietta Edgecombe, more Slytherins, and a few member of other houses as well. A particularly ugly face was barely recognisable, but her large, square frame gave Millicent Bulstrode away.
The toad's wide mouth opened again. "Now I am able to punish you for every moment you tried to befoul my Lord."
"You're all Death Eaters," Harry stated the obvious, and some part of his consciousness or subconscious tried to mentally note all names and faces he was able to recognise.
Umbridge ignored his statement and continued, "You tried to wreak havoc; you tried to thwart the Dark Lord's plans again and again. But you failed. And now it's my turn, my duty, to discipline you for all your insolence."
Somewhere in his subconscious mind Harry knew the entire scene wasn't real, it was a dream, a vision, a product of his own imagination. The assembled Death Eaters still didn't say anything but emitting some animal, guttural sounds, yawing, lusting for him to suffer from Umbridge's wand. He had seen enough. He knew most of the assembled lot and would remember their names later. Now if it was a dream - as it was a dream he just had to wake before she actually started to curse him.
"You knew he was reborn," Harry shouted, "you knew it all along!"
"Of course I did, you foolish boy," the witch answered. "It was my task to prevent the public from learning about it." She licked her lips in delight and pointed her wand straight at his chest. "Crucio."
Harry awoke with a yelp. Automatically he reached for his wand under his pillow. For a moment he didn't know where he was. Was this still a part of his dream? The surrounding room, dimly lit by the moonlight, was unfamiliar, and without his glasses he wasn't able to recognise anything. And where was his wand? Panic arose inside him - what if Voldemort had actually managed to abduct him? But then he realised he wasn't at Privet Drive anymore. He was at the Burrow, in Fred and George's room.
Harry didn't know how much of his dream was actually real. He didn't know if the dream mirrored real events or if it was largely a product of his fantasy. But he was sure - he knew his dreams weren't just fantasies. They were at least based on facts. Voldemort had tried to possess him, he might have left a shadow of his memory, now revealing names and locations. Then there was still the link connecting their minds. Harry himself wasn't able to block it; perhaps Voldemort, too, couldn't seal it completely. It was impossible to continuously empty the mind of all thoughts and emotions. Bits of information certainly slipped past Voldemort's barrier and reached Harry, especially at night, when both their minds were weakened. Hadn't he seen all these visions while asleep?
He lit the lamp on the desk and opened his trunk to get his notations hidden down below a layer of underwear. There was no doubt that Umbridge was a Death Eater. It explained everything, her hatred towards Hagrid and the Centaurs, her disdain for Muggle-born, and her denying Voldemort's return. Perhaps she had joined him right after the Triwizard Tournament, or she had already been one of his followers during the first war. Anyway, her actions had delayed any swift and firm reaction against Voldemort and his Death Eaters for more than a year.
Harry sat down at the desk and started to scribble down the names he had learned that night. Seventeen students, and two more, which he had seen before, but didn't know. He was sure, once back at Hogwarts, he would be able to recognise them. Most students he already had on his list, Malfoy and the other Slytherins of course, but also Edgecomb and Smith. The most important name, however, was Dolores Umbridge.
Finished with his task Harry again buried the papers in the trunk. Wondering if Dumbledore knew about Umbridge he blew out the lamp and walked over towards the window. The sky was cloudless and the waning moon was gleaming quite bright, basking the Burrow and its surroundings in a slivery light. Right now he was too agitated to get back to sleep. If only he could ...
Forgotten were Umbridge and Voldemort. Harry didn't hesitate. He jumped towards the cupboard and slipped into one of his school robes. He didn't bother his shoes. Instead he just grabbed the Firebolt and opened the window. Seconds later he shot out into the sky.
posted: Mai, 28, 2007
A/N: I'm sorry, but real life did interfere again. I will never again posting any promises concerning the next update.
If you are interested in Trio-Fics, please have a look at my C2 Community Harry Ron Hermione.
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