The sweltering heat of summer had descended upon Privet Drive. Harry was trying to get some relief from the heat, but the 30 year-old fan that the Dursely's had provided him with after they bought Dudley his own personal air conditioner was not doing the trick at all. Harry was expecting the results of his O.W.L. exams any day now. He only wished that he would be able to share the results with someone right away. The Dursleys had stayed out of Harry's way; they really were not speaking to him at all. Any other summer and Harry would have been ecstatic, but this summer had proven to be one of the least happy in Harry's memory.

He was sitting at his desk flipping through the pages of his photo album. His hands brushed the faces in his parent's wedding picture. Sirius was smiling, his arm around James' neck. His mother looked forward, her bright green eyes shining in the sunlight. He turned the page and saw himself at age one smiling, completely oblivious to the fate that lay before him. Looking into Harry's eyes revealed a very weary soul. Much older than the 16 he was about to turn. Turning 16 was bad enough for the average muggle with acne and outgrowing your jeans in the matter of a month. Harry couldn't imagine that there was another person with this much weight on their shoulders anywhere else in the world. As strong and as brave as Harry was, he could not shake the pain that he had felt from the death of Sirius.

What was he to do? Forget everything that happened to him? Voldemort had returned to full power and was about to wage a new war on the wizarding world. Harry was the only one with the power to stop him. Harry often wondered what the Mirror of Erised would show him if he were standing in front of it today. He imagined he'd see Sirius standing beside him. His thoughts drifted back to when Ron looked in the mirror. He saw himself as Head Boy and Quidditch captain. It seemed that this desire of Ron's might actually come true. Then Harry remembered himself standing beside his parents. Would this mean that Harry was destined to join his parents in death at the hands of Voldemort? Harry feared it true. He hadn't spoken to Ron or Hermione about this, he couldn't bear it. As much as he desired Ron's advice and Hermione's wisdom, he felt that bearing this burden alone was the right thing to do, for now. Without another thought, Harry closed his photo album and lay on his bed, where he immediately fell asleep.

Pigwidgeon arrived early the next morning with a note from Ron.

Harry!

You won't believe it! Two O's and Four E's! I haven't heard from
Hermione yet, but I'm sure she must have scrapped up O's in
everything. How about you? Mum and Dad want you to know that you
are welcome to come to the burrow whenever you want to. How about
Sunday? See you soon!

Ron

Harry had barely finished reading Ron's letter when a large tawny owl flew in, dropped a large letter on his bed and quickly flew away. Seeing the Hogwarts seal, Harry took a deep breath and tore open the letter.

Dear Mr. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you of your O.W.L. results:

Charms: E Transfiguration: O Herbology: A Defense Against the Dark Arts: O Potions: E Care of Magical Creatures: O Astronomy: A Divination: P

Please note that you have been accepted into the following N.E.W.T. level classes.

Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts and Care of Magical Creatures. You have also received probationary acceptance in N.E.W.T level Potions and Charms.

You can expect to receive your books and supply list approximately four weeks before the start of term.

Congratulations, again on your performance.

Sincerely,

Professor M. McGonagall Deputy Headmistress

Harry was thrilled. He had never expected to do so well. For a few short minutes, he forgot all about Sirius, Voldemort and the prophecy. He'd be leaving for the burrow in less than a week and it looked as if he was well on his way to becoming an auror. Harry walked out of his bedroom and headed downstairs to let the Dursley's know that he'd be out of their hair by the end of the week.

Aunt Petunia was busy cooking up a giant omelet. Uncle Vernon was seated at the kitchen table buried behind the Times. He peeked his head out and looked at Harry.

"Bring the post in, boy."

"Yes sir." Harry responded. "Um, Uncle Vernon?

"What is it?" Vernon seemed annoyed.

"Well, I've been invited to go spend the rest of the summer with my friends. I'll be leaving Sunday, I'd need a ride...Although, I'm sure the Weasley's could come get me." Harry smiled, knowing full well what Uncle Vernon's reaction would be.

A look of horror appeared over Vernon's fat face.

"NO! I WILL NOT HAVE THOSE BLOODY ABNORMAL FOLK COMING ANYWHERE NEAR THIS HOUSE!" He paused to catch his breath. "I will drive you to London, they can meet you there."

"Thank you Uncle Vernon. I'll go get the post then." Harry turned on his heels a look of gratification on his face.

Dudley was not present this morning as he was spending this week camping with Piers Polkiss and his family. Having Dudley gone even for a few days had been a big treat for Harry. Ever since their confrontation with the Order at King's Cross, the Dursleys had tiptoed around Harry. Just the thought that Tonks might come strolling up the walk, with her bubble gum pink hair, was enough to send Petunia into a fit. Vernon was now actually encouraging Harry to send letters to his friends by Owl Post.

As Harry returned to the kitchen with the post for Uncle Vernon, he felt a sharp sting in his scar. Petunia yelled from across the kitchen, "I suppose you'll want breakfast?"

Harry rubbed his scar. "No. Thank you Aunt Petunia. I'm not feeling like breakfast this morning."

Petunia looked at Harry. "Are you alright there?"

"Fine. Just...just a headache." Harry had already turned around and left the kitchen.

Harry quickly penned a note to Ron.

Ron,

The Dursley's will drop me in London on Sunday. If you can't meet me there, I'll take the Knight Bus to the Burrow. See you then.

Harry

Harry gave the note to Hedwig and sent her off. He began cleaning out his trunk and getting his things in order. As he removed his invisibility cloak from the bottom of the trunk, his hand caught on something sharp and he pulled it away quickly. He had gashed his finger badly. He moved the cloak with his other hand while he sucked on his finger to stop the bleeding. Harry saw what he had cut his finger on; a fragment of the two-way mirror Sirius had given him.

He wanted to cry. The few minutes of peace Harry had just found quickly faded as the memories of Sirius flooded back as fresh as they were that night in Dumbledore's office. No matter what anyone thought or said, Harry still blamed himself for Sirius' death. Harry was going to have to live with nightmares of Sirius falling through the veil, the flash of green light and his mother's screams as she died for him and Cedric's limp body resting at his feet.

Harry looked down to see what was dripping on to his leg. He had forgotten about the cut on his finger and that it was still bleeding. Harry did not seem to care much though. He walked to the bathroom and wrapped his finger in some gauze. Harry went back to clearing out his trunk and preparing for the rest of the summer.

On Saturday evening, Harry received Ron's response.

Harry,

Dad will be in London on Ministry Business this Sunday. Have your Uncle bring you to the "booth". Dad will bring you back here. If you get back early enough, we'll get in a game of Quidditch.

See you Sunday,

Ron

Harry smiled for the first time since he got Ron's last letter. He was a little apprehensive about how the Weasley's, especially Mrs. Weasley was going to treat him when he arrived at the burrow. Ron had not spoken a word about Sirius in his letters or at all since the night in the Department of Mysteries. Harry expected to be bombarded with questions and concerned looks as he had gotten a bit thinner over the past month. Of course, anything would be better than spending the rest of the summer with the Dursleys. Harry returned to reading his latest Owl mail purchase, Advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts: Practical Counter Curses and Protective Spells. He managed to get through half of the chapter on Shielding Charms before he fell in to a deep sleep.

Harry and Uncle Vernon arrived at the entrance to the Ministry of Magic at 2:30 sharp. Vernon unloaded Harry's trunk and gave him a quick nod. "We'll be seeing you in June then." He plopped back in to the car and drove off.

Harry stood there for a few seconds in disbelief. Uncle Vernon had actually said good-bye, in his own cold way. He stood uncomfortably on the sidewalk, about to enter the very last place he wanted to be. Harry turned around to face the booth and a chill swam over him. He was going to have to return to the place where he lost Sirius. There was no way around this, if Harry wanted to go to the burrow, he was going to have to meet Mr. Weasley inside the Ministry.

He made sure there were no Muggles in sight, and then shoved his trunk into the booth and managed to squeeze himself in as well. He could barely close the door behind him, and the entire booth smelled a bit like a dog had mistaken it for a fire hydrant. Following the instructions Mr. Weasley had given him, Harry dialed 6-2-4-4-2. The same voice that greeted Harry last year sounded throughout the booth.

"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business."

Harry paused and took a deep breath. "Harry Potter. Here to meet Mr. Arthur Weasley."

"Thank you," said the much too cheerful voice. "Visitor, please take the badge and attach it to your robes."

Harry took the badge and pinned it to his chest as the phone booth began to descend into the Ministry.

"Visitor to the Ministry, you are required to submit to a search and present your wand for registration at the security desk located at the far end of the atrium." The atrium. Harry nearly lost his life here just two months ago. Quite a few people nearly died that day, all of them there for one reason, Harry. The guilt just ate at him constantly. Harry hoped that a few weeks at the Burrow would help him snap out of his funk.

About a minute later, the door to the booth opened and Harry stepped out dragging his trunk behind him. Before Harry even had a chance to make it to the security desk, Mr. Weasley came rushing across the Atrium. "Harry! Harry! Good to see you!" Mr. Weasley gave Harry an awkward sort of hug. "Here, let me take care of that for you." With a swish and flick, Harry's trunk was now the size of a deck of cards. "That'll make things a little easier. Now if you'll wait just a minute, I have to go get one thing and we'll be on our way."

Harry assumed they would be taking a portkey; it was probably easier for them to make the trip with his trunk stowed safely in his pocket. Harry's thoughts quickly strayed to the lifts at the end of the hall. He could make a run for it; get back to the department of mysteries. Harry would pull back the veil, anything, just to hear Sirius again. He stared longingly at the lifts. Before he could make a move, Mr. Weasley had returned with a bag of groceries and walked Harry toward a room labeled Portkey Lounge #3.

Mr. Weasley pointed his wand at the paintbrush lying on the table in the middle of the room. "Portus."

Harry and Arthur grabbed the paintbrush Harry felt the familiar tug behind his navel accompanied by a whirlwind of colors. When his feet hit solid ground, Harry looked around confused. They were not at the Burrow. They had landed in the entrance hall of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place.

"Grimmauld Place? Why...Why are we here?." Harry was very upset.

"Well, going to the Burrow was the original plan...just last night Dumbledore called. He wanted the order to report to headquarters..."

"I...I...I can't be here." Harry said nervously.

"It'll be fine Harry. Everyone is here. Even Fred and George will be around for a few days. We're expecting Hermione tomorrow night." Arthur was trying to be reassuring, though he was not succeeding very well.

"Harry! Oh, I'm so glad to see you!" Mrs. Weasley was beaming, wearing a plaid kitchen apron over a bright pink sweater and a flowing purple skirt. She pulled him in to the tightest hug possible. Harry was in a downright rotten mood now, but just like the night in the hospital wing, the motherly feeling of Mrs. Weasley's hug rippled through him and seemed to lift a large weight off his back.

"Thanks Mrs. Weasley. It's good to see you too." Harry rubbed at his eyes. He was determined not to cry as he just saw Ron pop around the corner.

"Oi, Harry!" If it was possible, Ron had grown a few inches since they last saw each other at Kings' Cross. Much to the surprise of Ron, Harry walked toward him and gave him a quick hug. Ron patted Harry on the back, "Good to see you too, mate."

"Ron, help Harry get settled. I'll go work on supper." Mrs. Weasley cheerfully interjected.

Harry tossed his deck of cards sized trunk in to Ron's hands and looked at Mr. Weasley.

"Well, I suppose I can just bring that back to size...you can carry that upstairs, right Ron?" Almost instantly, the trunk swelled to normal size. Ron however, was still standing there holding it with one hand. "Featherweight charm...always one of my favorites." Mr. Weasley said. "Better hurry up though; it'll wear off in a minute."

Ron and Harry rushed up the stairs, past where the portrait of Mrs. Black was. The frame was still there, but Mrs. Black was not present. This was good because Harry was convinced that had she seen him walk by, she would have shouted, "Murderer!"