A/N: Hello! This is a sixth year fic. Will eventually be R/Hr and H/G, plus
lots of adventure and stuff. My name's Kaleidoscope Eyes, and I've written
some other stuff, but Little Bex, who I'm writing this with is new to the
whole fanfiction thing. This is our first big story, and we hope you enjoy
it.
Secrets of the Past
Harry Potter lay on his bed; arms folded beneath the mop of messy black hair, and closed his eyes, in an attempt to block out the dazzling rays of sunlight that pierced through the slatted blinds.
It had been a week and a half since the end of term, and things hadn't been too bad. The Dursley's seemed to have taken the warning from Moody and Remus seriously, they hardly spoke to him, and seemed to skirt around him at every meal, or every time he was in their company.
He received almost daily owls from Ron and Hermione, each packed with witty tales of how their summers were going. It was a far cry, Harry thought wryly, from the short notes he had received last summer.
Every day, when Hedwig, or Pig brought him a letter, he hoped that it would say, somewhere that the Weasley's were coming to fetch him, and take him to the Burrow. He heard a sudden whooshing sound from the region outside the window, and sat up immediately, his hand at his wand, which lay on the bedside table. Only did he relax when he saw that it was Hedwig returning from her journey to the Burrow. Attached to her leg was a small scroll of parchment, and Harry felt slightly disappointed - his other letters had been at least a foot long.
He took the parchment from Hedwig's outstretched foot, and unrolled it, his eyes scanning over the unfamiliar, cursive text.
Dear Harry,
Ron's too busy off snogging Hermione to write this letter, so Mum told me to do it instead. I'm only joking - they're not really off snogging, though they are off somewhere. On a picnic. You figure it out. Anyway, Mum says that you are coming to The Burrow later today whether you like it or not. She's cleared it with Dumbledore and the others, so don't worry. Dad will fetch you in a Ministry car, at around four this afternoon.
See you later,
Ginny
His eyes strayed to the clock on the wall, and saw that he only had one hour in which to sort his things out. He couldn't imagine why the Weasley's had left it at such short notice to tell him, though he was rather glad by it.
He jumped off his bed, and began running around his room, throwing his things into his trunk haphazardly, glad of something to do to ease the wait.
Once everything was packed away, and Hedwig was resting in her cage, he dragged his trunk down the stairs, as noisily as possible, not caring if the Dursley's thought that there was a giant in their house.
Just as he'd expected, Uncle Vernon came storming out of the living room, demanding to know what all the noise was about.
"What do you think you're doing boy! Dragging that great hulking thing down the stairs. Don't know what the neighbours will think!"
"Yeah, this trunk is so much louder than that music you let Dudley play every night. What was it again? The Spice Girls? I'd say that the neighbours would be more disturbed by that than a little bumping."
"You watch your lip with me boy!" he roared back at Harry, his enormous face purple, and his walrus moustache quivering with unsuppressed anger.
"You watch your lip with me!" Harry retorted, a bubble of anger rising in him, "or don't you remember what you were told at the train station?"
Uncle Vernon spluttered incoherently for a few seconds, before asking another question.
"And just where do you think you're going, anyway? You haven't completed that list of chores we set you - the garden fence still needs painting."
"Get Dudley to do it. I'm going to stay with my friends, they're coming for me-"
He was cut off by the doorbell ringing, "right about now." He grinned at Uncle Vernon, before moving to open the door.
"Petunia!" Uncle Vernon bellowed, "he's getting away!"
Harry was reminded of the time in the summer before his second year when his uncle had said almost exactly the same thing. The memory cheered him a little, and he grinned when he opened the door and saw Mr Weasley standing there, surrounded by a few of his children.
"Ah, Harry," Mr Weasley said, extending his hand for Harry to shake, "good to see you. Ready to go?"
"Er, yeah," said Harry, "just got to go and grab Hedwig. I'll be right back." He ran up the stairs, and grabbed the cage, and hurried back. As he approached the bottom of the stairs, he heard Mr Weasley making strained conversation with his Aunt and Uncle.
"Er, so, nice car you've got there," Mr Weasley said, wiping his shiny forehead with a spotted handkerchief.
Uncle Vernon merely grunted, and Mr Weasley took this as a sign to continue.
"The Ministry loaned us this car," he gestured behind him, "it really is quite spectacular! It's got a fellytision, and a fellytone and one of those things that makes things cold - fridgers, I think they're called?"
Harry couldn't see Uncle Vernon's expression, but he presumed it was one of wonderment, that his 'freak' friends were in possession of what looked like a very normal, Muggle limousine. He pushed past his uncle, quite accidentally bashing him on the head with Hedwig's cage, which caused his snowy owl to screech loudly in his ear.
"THAT RUDDY OWL!" Uncle Vernon roared, "IT NEEDS TO BE PUT DOWN!"
"Don't yell at Harry like that," Mr Weasley said quietly.
"I DON'T TAKE ORDERS FROM FREAKS LIKE YOU!" Vernon bellowed, and quite a few of the neighbours peered over their garden fences.
"Vernon," Aunt Petunia hissed, keep your voice down. Uncle Vernon looked slightly abashed at his wife's words, and called out to the nosy neighbours -
"Nothing to worry about!" he said brightly, "just rehearsing for a play!" The neighbours frowned, but returned their heads to the other side of the fence.
"Well -" said George.
"We know when we're not wanted -" continued Fred.
"We'll just take Harry now."
They each seized one of Harry's wrists, and dragged him out of the front door. They released him when he had crossed the threshold, and began making their way down the garden path. They had almost reached the impressive limousine, resplendent with little flags bearing the symbol of the Ministry of Magic, when a shrill voice called out from behind him.
"Harry-" he whirled around, surprised at being addressed by his first name by his aunt, who usually just called him 'boy' or 'you'.
"You can't go yet, I haven't told you-" but Aunt Petunia's voice was cut off by the slamming of the front door, and Harry heard no more.
He pondered over what his Aunt wanted to tell him, he'd never heard her like that before, but soon forgot it when Ron clapped a hand on his back, and grinned at him.
"How are you, mate?" he asked.
Harry thought about it for a while before answering. He'd usually just reply with an 'OK', or 'I'm fine', but something welled up inside of him, and the words choked in his mouth. He thought about what he was really feeling, about Sirius. He hadn't given his mind much time to dwell on his godfather in the past week and a half, but now he opened his heart and allowed his emotions to flood in, and so when he answered Ron, it was with an honest answer, and he was surprised to find that his mood felt so much lighter when he said it.
"I miss Sirius." Ron looked shocked, as if he had expected Harry to avoid the issue of Sirius like the plague. "I'm fine about it, Ron," he said, "honestly," he added when Ron looked at him with disbelieving eyes. They had got into the limo now, and the smooth car had glided off along the road, "I think I've accepted that he's really gone. I don't want to think about him dead - I'd prefer to remember him alive."
Ron still didn't look convinced, and so Harry changed the subject.
"So," he said, amusement creeping into his voice, "I got a letter from Ginny, and she said that you and Hermione were too busy snogging to write poor old me a letter."
Ron's ears turned bright red, and he spluttered in embarrassment. He looked at the black leather of the seat and didn't answer Harry.
"More like rowing," interjected Fred - or was it George? In five years of knowing the twins, he still couldn't tell them apart.
"Rowing?" Harry asked, the teasing tone still apparent.
"Yeah, Hermione got a letter from that Krum bloke, wants to know why she won't go and visit him." The other twin said.
"And so Hermione wrote back to him, and you know how Ron gets jealous of Krum."
"So Ron, the clever sod he is, decides to read the letter while Hermione goes to fetch some more ink-"
"And what do you know? Hermione comes back while he's reading it, and you know how Hermione gets when she's angry-"
"Got a pair of lungs on her to match a dragon that girl," George said, grinning.
"-Anyway, as I was saying, before I was rudely interrupted," Fred shot an accusing glance at his twin, "they had this big argument," he put on a high pitched voice, in an imitation of Hermione's, "'Ron! What do you think you're doing? Reading my private letters!'"
George continued to act out the situation, imitating Ron.
"'What does this part mean? Dear Viktor, I would come and visit you, but I am spending the summer with my friend. And anyway - you know I don't like you in that way, and there's someone else. Someone who I really like.'" George paused, "and then our idiot brother goes 'When were you going to tell me about this other person then? Who is it? Is it Neville? It is isn't it? It's Neville.'"
"I didn't say that!" Ron protested.
"As good as," Fred said, and continued imitating Hermione, "'I didn't tell you, because it's you, you idiot!' And then she kind of pushed him over, burst into tears, and ran out of the room. It took Ginny ages to calm her down, and she hasn't spoken to Ron since."
Harry burst into howls of laughter, and watched as the blush spread from Ron's ears to his neck, and then onto his face.
"Shut up," Ron moaned, putting his head in his hands, "I don't know what to do!"
"Boys," Mr Weasley said from the front seat, "don't tease Ron." But as he turned around in his seat, Harry was sure he heard him chortle and mutter, "but he did ask for it."
The rest of the journey passed quickly, and when Ron's embarrassment faded, he launched into a tirade about the Chudley Cannons, his favourite Quidditch team.
This lasted until they reached The Burrow, and Harry was quite glad when they did arrive, he didn't think he could stand any more of Ron's indignant remarks of how the Cannons really ought to be in the Quidditch league, and how it was a travesty that they weren't.
"Harry dear!" Harry heard Mrs Weasley exclaim, and moments later, he was being hugged.
When Mrs Weasley broke the hug, he found himself ambushed firstly by Hermione, who nearly knocked him out, and then Ginny, who gave him a quick hug, before stepping back behind her mother, who had begun her usual tirade against the Dursley's.
"What have those Muggle's been feeding you? You're all skin and bones!" She tried to pat down his unruly hair, but her attempts were fruitless.
"It's no good," he told her honestly, "it won't lie flat," not realising that as he said that, he was trying to pat down his hair.
Mrs Weasley chuckled at his actions, and Harry let her pull him towards the front door. Everyone else followed, talking and laughing, and Harry looked up at the crooked, slightly run down looking house, and for the first time in months, he felt at home.
***
A/N: Please review! Let us know what you think, and if you have any comments or constructive criticism, that would be great! No flames please!
Secrets of the Past
Harry Potter lay on his bed; arms folded beneath the mop of messy black hair, and closed his eyes, in an attempt to block out the dazzling rays of sunlight that pierced through the slatted blinds.
It had been a week and a half since the end of term, and things hadn't been too bad. The Dursley's seemed to have taken the warning from Moody and Remus seriously, they hardly spoke to him, and seemed to skirt around him at every meal, or every time he was in their company.
He received almost daily owls from Ron and Hermione, each packed with witty tales of how their summers were going. It was a far cry, Harry thought wryly, from the short notes he had received last summer.
Every day, when Hedwig, or Pig brought him a letter, he hoped that it would say, somewhere that the Weasley's were coming to fetch him, and take him to the Burrow. He heard a sudden whooshing sound from the region outside the window, and sat up immediately, his hand at his wand, which lay on the bedside table. Only did he relax when he saw that it was Hedwig returning from her journey to the Burrow. Attached to her leg was a small scroll of parchment, and Harry felt slightly disappointed - his other letters had been at least a foot long.
He took the parchment from Hedwig's outstretched foot, and unrolled it, his eyes scanning over the unfamiliar, cursive text.
Dear Harry,
Ron's too busy off snogging Hermione to write this letter, so Mum told me to do it instead. I'm only joking - they're not really off snogging, though they are off somewhere. On a picnic. You figure it out. Anyway, Mum says that you are coming to The Burrow later today whether you like it or not. She's cleared it with Dumbledore and the others, so don't worry. Dad will fetch you in a Ministry car, at around four this afternoon.
See you later,
Ginny
His eyes strayed to the clock on the wall, and saw that he only had one hour in which to sort his things out. He couldn't imagine why the Weasley's had left it at such short notice to tell him, though he was rather glad by it.
He jumped off his bed, and began running around his room, throwing his things into his trunk haphazardly, glad of something to do to ease the wait.
Once everything was packed away, and Hedwig was resting in her cage, he dragged his trunk down the stairs, as noisily as possible, not caring if the Dursley's thought that there was a giant in their house.
Just as he'd expected, Uncle Vernon came storming out of the living room, demanding to know what all the noise was about.
"What do you think you're doing boy! Dragging that great hulking thing down the stairs. Don't know what the neighbours will think!"
"Yeah, this trunk is so much louder than that music you let Dudley play every night. What was it again? The Spice Girls? I'd say that the neighbours would be more disturbed by that than a little bumping."
"You watch your lip with me boy!" he roared back at Harry, his enormous face purple, and his walrus moustache quivering with unsuppressed anger.
"You watch your lip with me!" Harry retorted, a bubble of anger rising in him, "or don't you remember what you were told at the train station?"
Uncle Vernon spluttered incoherently for a few seconds, before asking another question.
"And just where do you think you're going, anyway? You haven't completed that list of chores we set you - the garden fence still needs painting."
"Get Dudley to do it. I'm going to stay with my friends, they're coming for me-"
He was cut off by the doorbell ringing, "right about now." He grinned at Uncle Vernon, before moving to open the door.
"Petunia!" Uncle Vernon bellowed, "he's getting away!"
Harry was reminded of the time in the summer before his second year when his uncle had said almost exactly the same thing. The memory cheered him a little, and he grinned when he opened the door and saw Mr Weasley standing there, surrounded by a few of his children.
"Ah, Harry," Mr Weasley said, extending his hand for Harry to shake, "good to see you. Ready to go?"
"Er, yeah," said Harry, "just got to go and grab Hedwig. I'll be right back." He ran up the stairs, and grabbed the cage, and hurried back. As he approached the bottom of the stairs, he heard Mr Weasley making strained conversation with his Aunt and Uncle.
"Er, so, nice car you've got there," Mr Weasley said, wiping his shiny forehead with a spotted handkerchief.
Uncle Vernon merely grunted, and Mr Weasley took this as a sign to continue.
"The Ministry loaned us this car," he gestured behind him, "it really is quite spectacular! It's got a fellytision, and a fellytone and one of those things that makes things cold - fridgers, I think they're called?"
Harry couldn't see Uncle Vernon's expression, but he presumed it was one of wonderment, that his 'freak' friends were in possession of what looked like a very normal, Muggle limousine. He pushed past his uncle, quite accidentally bashing him on the head with Hedwig's cage, which caused his snowy owl to screech loudly in his ear.
"THAT RUDDY OWL!" Uncle Vernon roared, "IT NEEDS TO BE PUT DOWN!"
"Don't yell at Harry like that," Mr Weasley said quietly.
"I DON'T TAKE ORDERS FROM FREAKS LIKE YOU!" Vernon bellowed, and quite a few of the neighbours peered over their garden fences.
"Vernon," Aunt Petunia hissed, keep your voice down. Uncle Vernon looked slightly abashed at his wife's words, and called out to the nosy neighbours -
"Nothing to worry about!" he said brightly, "just rehearsing for a play!" The neighbours frowned, but returned their heads to the other side of the fence.
"Well -" said George.
"We know when we're not wanted -" continued Fred.
"We'll just take Harry now."
They each seized one of Harry's wrists, and dragged him out of the front door. They released him when he had crossed the threshold, and began making their way down the garden path. They had almost reached the impressive limousine, resplendent with little flags bearing the symbol of the Ministry of Magic, when a shrill voice called out from behind him.
"Harry-" he whirled around, surprised at being addressed by his first name by his aunt, who usually just called him 'boy' or 'you'.
"You can't go yet, I haven't told you-" but Aunt Petunia's voice was cut off by the slamming of the front door, and Harry heard no more.
He pondered over what his Aunt wanted to tell him, he'd never heard her like that before, but soon forgot it when Ron clapped a hand on his back, and grinned at him.
"How are you, mate?" he asked.
Harry thought about it for a while before answering. He'd usually just reply with an 'OK', or 'I'm fine', but something welled up inside of him, and the words choked in his mouth. He thought about what he was really feeling, about Sirius. He hadn't given his mind much time to dwell on his godfather in the past week and a half, but now he opened his heart and allowed his emotions to flood in, and so when he answered Ron, it was with an honest answer, and he was surprised to find that his mood felt so much lighter when he said it.
"I miss Sirius." Ron looked shocked, as if he had expected Harry to avoid the issue of Sirius like the plague. "I'm fine about it, Ron," he said, "honestly," he added when Ron looked at him with disbelieving eyes. They had got into the limo now, and the smooth car had glided off along the road, "I think I've accepted that he's really gone. I don't want to think about him dead - I'd prefer to remember him alive."
Ron still didn't look convinced, and so Harry changed the subject.
"So," he said, amusement creeping into his voice, "I got a letter from Ginny, and she said that you and Hermione were too busy snogging to write poor old me a letter."
Ron's ears turned bright red, and he spluttered in embarrassment. He looked at the black leather of the seat and didn't answer Harry.
"More like rowing," interjected Fred - or was it George? In five years of knowing the twins, he still couldn't tell them apart.
"Rowing?" Harry asked, the teasing tone still apparent.
"Yeah, Hermione got a letter from that Krum bloke, wants to know why she won't go and visit him." The other twin said.
"And so Hermione wrote back to him, and you know how Ron gets jealous of Krum."
"So Ron, the clever sod he is, decides to read the letter while Hermione goes to fetch some more ink-"
"And what do you know? Hermione comes back while he's reading it, and you know how Hermione gets when she's angry-"
"Got a pair of lungs on her to match a dragon that girl," George said, grinning.
"-Anyway, as I was saying, before I was rudely interrupted," Fred shot an accusing glance at his twin, "they had this big argument," he put on a high pitched voice, in an imitation of Hermione's, "'Ron! What do you think you're doing? Reading my private letters!'"
George continued to act out the situation, imitating Ron.
"'What does this part mean? Dear Viktor, I would come and visit you, but I am spending the summer with my friend. And anyway - you know I don't like you in that way, and there's someone else. Someone who I really like.'" George paused, "and then our idiot brother goes 'When were you going to tell me about this other person then? Who is it? Is it Neville? It is isn't it? It's Neville.'"
"I didn't say that!" Ron protested.
"As good as," Fred said, and continued imitating Hermione, "'I didn't tell you, because it's you, you idiot!' And then she kind of pushed him over, burst into tears, and ran out of the room. It took Ginny ages to calm her down, and she hasn't spoken to Ron since."
Harry burst into howls of laughter, and watched as the blush spread from Ron's ears to his neck, and then onto his face.
"Shut up," Ron moaned, putting his head in his hands, "I don't know what to do!"
"Boys," Mr Weasley said from the front seat, "don't tease Ron." But as he turned around in his seat, Harry was sure he heard him chortle and mutter, "but he did ask for it."
The rest of the journey passed quickly, and when Ron's embarrassment faded, he launched into a tirade about the Chudley Cannons, his favourite Quidditch team.
This lasted until they reached The Burrow, and Harry was quite glad when they did arrive, he didn't think he could stand any more of Ron's indignant remarks of how the Cannons really ought to be in the Quidditch league, and how it was a travesty that they weren't.
"Harry dear!" Harry heard Mrs Weasley exclaim, and moments later, he was being hugged.
When Mrs Weasley broke the hug, he found himself ambushed firstly by Hermione, who nearly knocked him out, and then Ginny, who gave him a quick hug, before stepping back behind her mother, who had begun her usual tirade against the Dursley's.
"What have those Muggle's been feeding you? You're all skin and bones!" She tried to pat down his unruly hair, but her attempts were fruitless.
"It's no good," he told her honestly, "it won't lie flat," not realising that as he said that, he was trying to pat down his hair.
Mrs Weasley chuckled at his actions, and Harry let her pull him towards the front door. Everyone else followed, talking and laughing, and Harry looked up at the crooked, slightly run down looking house, and for the first time in months, he felt at home.
***
A/N: Please review! Let us know what you think, and if you have any comments or constructive criticism, that would be great! No flames please!