Sweet Sixteenth

A/N: This story is slash between Harry/Ron, Harry/Seamus, Harry/Sirius. Contains spoilers for OotP. Do not read if turned off by slash, or want to avoid spoilers. Please read and review. Thank you.

    As the sun lowered itself into the horizon, darkness fell, signaling yet another summer day's end. And Harry Potter, of Number 4, Privet Drive, would have usually felt happy about that, but no more. These days, the days and nights meant nothing. He had no goal left in life. It no longer mattered. To him, Hogwarts was just another school, and the Burrow was just another house, and his friends were just faces in the crowds.

    Only a month had passed since the summer started, and the calendar that was usually checked off as another day ended was left untouched. Harry was found lying on his bed, eyes closed, but still awake, thinking of nothing. The events of the past year wore down on him, and he felt as old as the Earth. Last year, wizards everywhere had made a mockery of him, promptly forgetting that the only reason that they were even alive today had been because of his birth. Only a handful of people believed in what he and Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts, had said about Lord Voldemort's rising. Lord Voldemort was the most evil Dark Lord ever seen since the days of Salazar Slytherin.

    In the end, Voldemort had made his appearance in the Ministry of Magic, trying to take a prophecy written about the both of them. The end result was that he had been revealed to the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, who wasted no time in letting the world know of his existence. Although this was good news, the price of it had been too high for Harry. In a frantic battle with Voldemort's followers, the Death Eaters, many of his friends had been hurt, and his godfather, Sirius Black, had been killed.

    As thunder boomed in the distance, Harry's train of thought shifted from nothing to Sirius. He had met his godfather, and gotten to know him for all of two years, before his death. And although it pained him to think it, Sirius had been the one foolish enough to mock Bellatrix Lestrange, the Death Eater in question, and had died in the end. Harry couldn't help but feel that if Sirius hadn't tried to prove himself to his godson, he would still be alive today.

    'Snape,' Harry thought murderously. It had been Snape's fault as well, with his taunting and teasing that Sirius had done nothing but clean for the Order of the Phoenix. Harry's eyes narrowed, and he felt ready to rip his room into pieces with his bare hands. It was all Snape's fault. His thoughts shifted from Snape to other people as well. For the next few minutes, names flashed through his mind, all responsible for Sirius's death. Voldemort, Bellatrix, Snape, Kreacher, Lupin, Dumbledore…

    As Dumbledore's name was added to the mix, Harry felt another surge of anger. If Dumbledore hadn't been so adamant about not letting Sirius do anything for the Order, except for cleaning, and allowing them to set up Headquarters in his parents house, Sirius wouldn't have felt the need to show off in the first place. And Lupin…how dare he keep Harry from grabbing Sirius's body from the veil? If Lupin hadn't held him back, Harry might have been able to save him.

    Before he knew what he was doing, Harry banged open the door, and walked outside, not bothering that his aunt, uncle and cousin, the Dursleys, could hear him. They couldn't do anything anyway. It was his sixteenth birthday, the day when he would be considered an adult and finally be allowed to use magic outside of school. As he thundered down the stairs, his Uncle Vernon looked up at him, and Harry expected another loud lecture. Instead, he just said, 'Letters. And those ruddy owls had best not come back,'

    Harry ignored him, and went to the table where all the mail was kept. There were about six of them, all of which had been addressed to him in the living room. Harry wondered why, since all his previous letters had been addressed to him in his bedroom. He then remembered that he had been in the living room a few minutes ago, and supposed that the packages had been addressed to him and sent on their way at that time, and had reached the house when he had left for his bedroom. There was an official letter from Hogwarts, bearing the school's crest, one from Ron, one from Hermione, one from Hagrid, one from Lupin, and the last from the Ministry of Magic.

    He opened Ron's letter first, and squinted to read the untidy scrawl.

Dear Harry—

    Hey mate, how are you? We're all at the place we were last year. It feels horribly empty without him. I hope you're enjoying your holidays. Guess what, I got my OWLs today. So did Hermione. She's really pleased about it, says she did the best she could. Obviously. Anyway, Mum says that you can come visit if Dumbledore gives us the nod, and I think he will. We all miss you. We've been trying to do a special project to commemorate him, but it isn't going so well. We told his horrible mother the news, but she seemed really pleased. She's an awful woman, and Kreacher isn't that great either. Hermione still defends him, but I think she's starting to get annoyed by him too, and that would be saying something. So I volunteered for Kreacher to be the new tester for Fred and George. They're doing really well with the joke shop, and are back here for the summer. They say hi, and thanks for the money. I don't think Mum knows yet, but she's bound to. Anyway, don't get too down on yourself. No one could have helped it. Enjoy your sixteenth, mate.

-Ron

    Harry put down the note, and grabbed the package. He started to open it, but thought twice when he realized that his relatives were in the room, so he took all his packages and letters up to his bedroom. Once there, he opened Ron's package. It was a Sneakoscope. Again. He placed it carefully on his desk, and took Hermione's letter. At least her handwriting was neat.

Dear Harry—

    Harry birthday! I hope you're well. We're all back at the you-know-where, I do believe that Ron has mentioned it in his letter. Right now, we're all trying to rip off you-know-who's mother's portrait, but it's not going well. Kreacher won't have any of it, and keeps trying to stop us. It's also hard to get it down when she's screaming loudly in your ear. Dumbledore stopped by last week, and Mrs. Weasley asked if you could come, but unfortunately we were all ushered out of the room. And Fred and George weren't present right then, so we couldn't use the Extendable Ears either. Have you gotten your OWL results back yet? We got ours today, and I don't think Ron liked his much. In fact, when he looked through it, he looked rather sick. I do hope you're not blaming yourself for what happened, because, Harry, there was nothing you could have done.

Anyway, I can't put much in this letter. I hope to see you soon. Take care of yourself, and enjoy your birthday.

-Hermione

    Opening her package, he saw that it was yet another book entitled 'Dark Magic and how to Recognize it'. Next, he went for the school letter, which he guessed bore his OWL results. It felt thicker than the usual letters he got, and picked it up.

Dear Mr. Potter,

    This letter is to inform you of the results you have managed to achieve in your Ordinary Wizarding Level Examinations, otherwise known as OWL Exams. Please be informed that as of now, you are required to take only elective classes that you feel will be most beneficial to your future. Enclosed will be your results, followed by a list of classes that you are allowed to take. Please note that you are not allowed to take less than three subjects. Thank you.

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

    Hands shaking, Harry took one of the other letters that had fallen from the envelope.

Dear Mr. Potter,

We are pleased to announce that the following lists your results for the Ordinary Wizarding Level Examinations (OWL Exams).

· Astrology                                             Outstanding

· Care of Magical Creatures                     Exceeds Expectations

· Charms                                                 Acceptable

· Defense Against the Dark Arts                  Exceeds Expectations

· Divination                                             Dreadful

· Herbology                                             Poor

· History of Magic                           Dreadful

· Potions                                                 Outstanding

· Transfiguration                                                Exceeds Expectations

    It wasn't as bad as he thought. In fact, he felt relief rush through him as he saw his Potions grade, thanking the stars that Snape hadn't been the one marking the OWLs, or he would have never made it. Remembering what Professor McGonagall had said the previous year about Snape only accepting those with Outstanding or above for his Potions class, and Potions and Transfiguration being essential for Aurors, he felt a flash of excitement, before it went away. 'Do I want to be an Auror?' Harry wondered suddenly.

    It was the only job he had ever considered for his post-Hogwarts years, but after witnessing Sirius's death, he suddenly didn't feel so eager to do it. And as an Auror, he would definitely have to face more deaths. He thought about Mad-Eye Moody, and shivered. If he worked with the Aurors, there was a good chance that he could end up looking like that. He wasn't sure if he was exactly thrilled about having 'Mad-Eye Potter' as a nickname. Or worse, 'Mad-Nose Potter' or 'Mad-Lips Potter'. Of course, Mad-Lips      didn't exactly sound like an insult. Especially to people who didn't know what he looked like. It would sound like he was a really good snogger.

    Suddenly Harry was very unsure about his decision for his future, and was reminded of Hermione's manic career-reading. He remembered her reading about books on Muggle Relations, and Training Security Trolls. Suddenly Harry remembered that the only other thing he had ever thought about doing, aside from being an Auror, was to play Quidditch for a living. Of course, that was a long shot, but he everyone had told him in his fourth year that he flew better than Viktor Krum, an internationally famous Quidditch player for the Bulgarian team. And Viktor had been older than him too. But even so, Harry still felt doubts.

    Promising to think about it later, he set down the results, and reached for his other letter from Hogwarts: The classes.

Dear Mr. Potter,

    From the results of your examinations, it has been determined that you are able to apply for these classes for your sixth and seventh year.

· Astrology (Intermediate Course)                                                            Prof. Sinistra

· Care Of Magical Creatures (Intermediate Course)                        Prof. Hagrid

· Care of Magical Creatures (Advanced Course)                                    Prof. Grubbly-Plank

· Care of Magical Creatures (NEWT Course)                                    Prof. Grubbly-Plank

· Charms (Intermediate Course)                                                            Prof. Flitwick

· Defense Against the Dark Arts (Intermediate Course)                        Prof. Leika

· Defense Against the Dark Arts (Advanced Course)                        Prof. Hyden

· Defense Against the Dark Arts (NEWT Course)                                    Prof. Hyden

· Potions (Intermediate Course)                                                            Prof. Cora

· Potions (Advanced Course)                                                            Prof. Cora

· Potions (NEWT Course)                                                            Prof. Snape

· Transfiguration (Advanced Course)                                                Prof. Halliwell

· Transfiguration (NEWT Course)                                                Prof. McGonagall

If you are granted permission to enter a NEWT Course, it is advisable that you ignore Intermediate and Advance levels and concentrate only on the NEWT Courses.

*Note: Careers Advice has been given by the Head of House during Fifth-Year, and will be given twice each year when entering sixth and seventh year.

**Note: All sixth year prefects are now in the running to be Head Boy and Head Girl. At the end of the year, it will be decided which prefect receives the Honor.

At the end of the sixth year, all students must decide which field they want to enter (i.e. Auror Training), and will be given said class in their seventh year. If undecided, students must present Head of House with a list of choices (i.e. Auror Training, Healer, Banker, etc.). All choices must be practical (i.e. You are not permitted to choose Professional Singer, Professional Quidditch Player, etc. in your list of choices).

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

    Harry felt even worse now.

*

    Harry tried his best to not think about Sirius as the days passed by, instead concentrating on choosing which subjects he wanted to take when he returned to Hogwarts. He wondered how many subjects Hermione would be taking, knowing it wouldn't be too many after the disastrous timetable she had been given in their third year. Just as he was about to go over the list again for the fifth time that day, he heard a knock on his window.

    Sirius, he thought irrationally, then gave himself a mental slap. Sirius had never been to Privet Drive before. He had never heard Sirius knock on the window before. But most importantly, Sirius was no longer here. With him. Trying to dislodge the lump in his throat, he looked up and saw Ron grinning at him…standing on air. Harry's jaw dropped, and he leapt to the window and opened it up. 'How…?' he trailed off, staring in amazement. Ron let out a tiny peal of laughter, which sounded amazingly like a woman's.

    'Don't let the disguise fool you,' Ron advised in a woman's voice, then stepped in, immediately changing into Tonks.

    'Wow,' Harry's eyebrows shot up. 'I never knew you could do that. Change into a whole person,'

    'It's very hard,' said Tonks, falling into a chair. 'And exhausting. I only recently developed that power, and it takes a lot out of me,'

    'So why'd you do it?'

    Tonks shrugged. 'I figured that you were having a lousy summer, after the…you know,' she stared tentatively into his eyes, 'and my morphs have never failed to get a laugh out of someone. I figured you could use it,'

    'Well, you'll just have to settle for amazed this time,' Harry replied.

    'I'll live. You ready?'

    Harry was caught off-guard. 'F—for what?'

    'Didn't you get our letter? We said we were going to pick you up tonight,' Tonks's eyes widened. Harry shook his head. 'Damn!' she whispered, then walked over to the window and leaned over. 'Moody! Arthur! Dung! Get in, quick!'

    Out of nowhere, the three wizards suddenly appeared in Harry's bedroom, holding what Harry recognized as an Invisibility Cloak. 'God, Tonks, how much do you weigh?' Mundungus Fletcher grumbled. 'That's the last time you ever stand on our heads while we're under the Cloak. Come to think of it, that's the last time you ever stand on our heads at all,'

    'Oh, cheer up, Dung,' Tonks chided. 'Harry needed a good scare. Anyway, the point is, Harry didn't get our letter saying that we'd pick him up today,'

    Immediately, the atmosphere of the room changed from friendly to tense. 'This true, Potter?' Moody growled. Harry nodded. Arthur Weasley, father of his best friend, Ron, looked very serious.

    'You-Know-Who and his followers have been getting bolder and bolder then,' Mr. Weasley mused. 'Ever since the Daily Prophet ran that story of him returning, chaos has been all over he place. He knows that the game is up, so he's making no effort of hiding himself,'

    'What's been going on?' Harry asked. 'Dumbledore didn't want me to buy the Prophet anymore,'

    'With good reason,' Moody growled. 'Owls coming in and out of this house everyday? Not only would the Muggles notice, but you could lead Voldemort straight to you,'

    'The Death Eaters have broken out of Azkaban,' Tonks reported grimly.

    'There have been reports of giants going over to the Dark Lord's side,' Arthur informed.

    'Countless deaths have been discovered with the Dark Mark upon the house,' Moody said.

    There was a moment of silence in which the four of them looked over to Mundungus to wait for him to say something. They watched as the thief walked around the room, and look up as he realized that he was being watched. 'Anythin' 'round this place you wouldn' mind donatin' to my noble cause, 'Arry?'

    'Oh, for Pete's sake, Mundungus,' Arthur cried.

    'Shh!' Harry hissed. 'My aunt and uncle are asleep, and Dudley is right next door,'

    'Oh, sorry, Harry,' Arthur apologized. 'Anyway, we have to get going. I know that Dumbledore told you that this house was safe, but You-Know-Who—'

    'He has a name, Weasley,' Moody gowled.

    'Right, sorry. Anyway, he's been getting stronger everyday, and I'm not really certain that this house could hold off against him. And Sir—'Mr. Weasley cut himself off, looking uncomfortable. With good reason, Harry felt. 'And Headquarters would be much safer with all the protection. Plus, it's Unplottable,'

    Harry felt a sudden surge of anger. So, 12 Grimmauld Place was no longer considered Sirius's home, was it? It was only Headquarters now. Headquarters, and not the place where Sirius had spent fifteen years of his life. Harry's hands balled into fists, and he saw Tonks's eyes widen, and knew she had see it curl. Mr. Weasley, however, remained oblivious. I could just push him, Harry thought suddenly. I could just shove him and he would go out the window. A sweet image of Mr. Weasley stumbling back, and falling through the open window, falling headfirst into the hard ground, his head cracking open like an egg, made Harry dizzy with happiness. Suddenly, a rational voice resounded in his head. What are you doing? it asked. This is Mr. Weasley! You can't shove him out.

    'Harry?' Tonks said carefully.

    'Yeah, let's go,' Harry replied, forcing his hands uncurl. They nodded, and headed for the door, Dung following them. Harry stood by the window with Tonks, holding out his suitcase, as Tonks magicked all his clothes and books into his suitcase. Harry closed the suitcase, grabbed Hedwig's cage, which held the snowy white owl inside, and jumped on his Firebolt, which had been given back to him after Dumbledore returned to Hogwarts. As Tonks jumped on her broom as well, the Invisibility Cloak was pulled over all five of them, Harry in the centre, Tonks and Mr. Weasley beside him, with Moody behind him, and Mundungus in front.

    The Cloak had been enlarged, Mr. Weasley told him, to fit all of them, thereby reducing any chance of being shot out of the sky. It was Moody's idea. After hearing Mr. Weasley's strange explanation of the enlarged cloak, Harry found the fact that Moody had cooked it up quite easy to believe.

*

    Back at Grimmauld Place, Harry thought darkly. The flight had been uneventful, and he was filled with dread at the thought of returning to the home of Sirius's parents without Sirius there to greet him. 'Number 12 Grimmauld Place,' everyone said clearly, and the house materialized in front of them. Opening the door, they entered.

    The cleaning had done a lot of good for the place, but Harry forced himself not to dwell on that. Sirius had done most of the cleaning for the entire year, and Harry knew that if he thought about it, he would break down and start crying.

    Mrs. Weasley then walked out of the kitchen, bearing a smile. 'Hello, Harry,' she greeted, grabbing him in a tight hug. 'I hope you're well,'

    Why do people keep asking me that? Harry found himself wondering. Did people expect him to suddenly drop dead? 'Ron and Hermione are upstairs, if you want to see them,'

    'Yeah, thanks,' Harry said dully. He latched on to his bag, and dragged it upstairs, then burst into the room that he had shared with Ron the previous year. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were there, playing a board game.

    'Oh, good,' Ginny said, looking up, 'we have one last piece. You can join us. We're not doing so well, anyway.'

    'What are you playing?' Harry questioned.

    'Snakes and Ladders,' Hermione informed. 'The Wizard version,'

    'This game must be old, I've never seen it before,' said Ron, not taking his eyes off the game. 'Come join us, mate.' Harry observed the game. Just then, Ron landed on the mouth of a snake at number 34, and the snake suddenly came to life, and opened his mouth over the piece.

    The piece was a little soldier, who cried out in its miniscule voice as the snake lunged at it and chewed it up. Harry watched as the snake spat it back out, the soldier looking unrecognizable because it had been eaten. It magically healed itself, and crawled up the number which the snake's tail met it: 17.

    'Aw!' Ron groaned. 'I give up,'

    'Fine,' Hermione said. 'Then I win, as I'm at a higher number than the both of you,' she studied the numbers Ron and Ginny were on, 'combined,' she added. The three of them looked up to Harry, who was silent.

    'So what d'you say?' Ron asked. 'Fancy a game?'

    'Maybe later,' Harry said. He turned to walk over to his bed, and lowered his suitcase, and lowered his hand to the mattress. 'Right now I'm feeling rather—' he broke off with a gasp, as a vision flooded his brain.

    He saw the bedroom, empty, except for him lying down. The door opened and Kreacher, the aged house-elf walked in, and went to Harry's side, and looked at him. Kreacher's hands lowered to Harry's throat, and wrapped around it, and it started to squeeze. Harry awoke, shocked, and struggled to get out of Kreacher's death grip, and pushed the elf away. Harry let out a silent roar and grabbed Kreacher—

    'Harry?' The vision broke off as Ron's voice penetrated through his hazy mind. Harry raised his eyes to see Ron, Hermione and Ginny, sitting at the board game, looking at him in an alarmed fashion. Harry's mouth was still open from the gasp he had emitted. 'What's wrong?' Ron asked again. 'Is it your scar?'

    'No,' Harry said. 'Um…yeah, it was,'

    Hermione raised her eyebrows. 'You just said no,'

    'I thought Ron said something else,' he lied. He didn't know why he was hiding this vision from his friends, but he knew that if he told them, they would start to make a big deal out of nothing. Either that, or they wouldn't believe him. And he had had enough of people not believing him last year to last him a lifetime. 'It's nothing. Just hurt a little. But that's nothing now, since Voldemort's back. I'd better get used to it,'

    They nodded. Just then, Mrs. Weasley called out. 'Supper!'

    The three of them got to their feet and made their way to the door. Ginny turned back to glance at him. 'Aren't you coming?' she asked.

    'Um, I'm kind of tired. Could you tell your mom that I don't feel up to it?' Harry requested. Ginny nodded, and sauntered out the door, closing it behind her. Harry heard the sounds of Fred and George running down the stairs from their room to the dining hall. His mind raced. What had just happened?

    Shaking his head, he got into the bed, pulled the comforters around him, and fell into a deep sleep.

*

    He couldn't breathe. Something was choking him. Or someone. Remembering his vision, Harry jolted awake, and was shocked to see Kreacher looming over him, hands pressed tightly into his throat. Harry let out a croak, and clawed at the house-elf, who moved out of range. Harry's hands somehow found Kreacher's naked chest, and pushed him away. The force allowed the demented elf to release his grip on him, and allowed Harry to breathe.

    'What—what the hell—' he gasped, taking in air.

    'Filthy Mudblood must leave!' Kreacher cried. 'You is distressing my poor Mistress! Oh, what will she say to Kreacher if she saw traitor in her house!'

    'I can't be a traitor if I'm not pureblood,' Harry had sucked in enough air, and was currently being filled with rage. It was fantastic. He never felt this angry before, and felt as though he had all the strength in the world flowing through him. He let out a roar, and lunged, knocking Kreacher to the ground. Picking the tiny body up, he said in a low voice 'You don't need to worry what Mrs. Black will say to you,' With that, he slammed the house-elf into the wall, knocking him unconscious. Harry then reached into his suitcase, and pulled out an object Hagrid had once given him.

*

    'Oh, hello, Harry dear,' Mrs. Weasley said as Harry walked down the stairs. Ron, Hermione, Fred and George were already seated at the table.

    'Morning,' Harry said blearily.

    'Morning, mate,' Fred greeted, before returning to his pancakes. George, his mouth full at the moment, settled for a wave. Ron looked up and gave Harry a tired smile, having woken up only minutes before.

    'I've tried calling Kreacher all morning, but I can't find him,' Mrs. Weasley said to all of them in an irritated voice. 'Have you seen him anywhere, Harry?'

    Her question reminded Harry of the events of last night. 'No,' he shook his head, biting back the urge to tell Mrs. Weasley of what had happened after he went to sleep. 'Haven't seen him,'

    Mrs. Weasley sighed in frustration. 'Well, after you're all done eating, join me in the living room. I think another Boggart may have entered, and I'm pretty sure I heard some Doxys last night too,' she went up the stairs, and passed the portrait of Mrs. Black, past the shelf where Kreacher's head lay, along with his ancestors, eyes wide open in terror.

*

    'So what's this special thing you had planned that you wrote in your letter?' Harry asked Ron, as they assembled in the living room.

    'Oh, right, we were thinking of making a portrait of Sirius,' Ron said in a tentative voice, as if hoping Harry wouldn't start screaming at him. Harry merely nodded, thinking that it was actually a good idea. A portrait of Sirius, that would be able to talk. Maybe talk to him. Maybe care for him.

    A large lump formed once again in his throat, and he fought to swallow it down. Suddenly, he saw a flash of something out of the corner of his eye. He turned and stared, shocked to see the familiar face looking at him, with so much love. He couldn't believe it. He wouldn't believe it. It was just a mirage. Or one of Voldemort's tricks. But he had to say something. So he did.

    'Sirius?' he asked softly.

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of this story. All belong to JK Rowling, our goddess.