dopedfu
Favorite People on KMC
taft
Sanctuary
Jen R
Jaeh Skywalker
Ast.
Jedi Preistess
Barker
Lana
LanceWindu
ShelbertLemon
Lordxyz
Bloigen
Mist
Skeets
The Pittman
Bakaxero(don't really know that well)
Dusty(same as above)
LadyLuck
Vinny Valentine
TOH
Ladygrim
Itzak
and of course Raz.
oh and Bardock for some reason
Oh..I just noticed....where is your name Syren?😕
Originally posted by H. S. 6
[...]He maneuvered his way around the collection of wizards and witches, and finally came to Hagrid and McGonagall. McGonagall, whose back was facing Harry, continued to talk to the half-giant, in what Harry thought to be a rather low whisper. They also seemed to be standing fairly far away from the other attendants.
“Well hello there, ‘Arry,” boomed Hagrid’s great voice, noticing Harry. Harry nodded and smiled.
“I was wondering, Professor, if I might have a word with you?”
McGonagall shot a furtive glance at Hagrid, who took the clue, gave Harry a weak grin, and shuffled away, muttering something about some more “punch.”
McGonagall grasped Harry by the arm and pulled him even further away from the crowd. “What is it you want to talk about, Mr. Potter?”
Not knowing how to begin, Harry said flatly, “Erm… Professor, was there anyone Disapparating from the Burrow on Tuesday night? An Order member, maybe?”
Her eyes searched Harry’s for a moment, as if she was looking for an answer there. “I don’t believe so,” she finally answered. “Of course, there might’ve been, but I couldn’t tell you why. Why do you ask?”
“I thought I heard someone… the other night. I s’pose it was nothing,” he finished.
“Right.” McGonagall’s reply sounded unsure. To change the subject, She asked off-handedly, “Will you be coming to Hogwarts this term? I assume you’ll have received your letter, at any rate.”
Glad now to have gotten away from the previous topic, Harry nodded his head. “I think so, Professor.”
“Good. Well, you know, Harry.” She paused. “Anything Hogwarts can provide you, or the Order—it’s yours. You know that.”
Harry nodded.
“Well, I must be off, Mr. Potter.” Suddenly, her attitude was very different. She became the brisk, stern Professor McGonagall Harry knew so well. “I expect to see you on the 31st with the other seventh years.” With that, she turned and Disapparated right on the spot. Harry was left briefly by his lonesome.
As he was getting ready to return to the party, something brushed up against his leg, like a cat yearning affection. He looked towards the ground, expecting to find Crookshanks or some other feline slinking by his shoes. Instead, he found only overgrown grass. All at once, one word rang clear in his mind.
Behind.
Whirling about, he searched frantically around him. He wasn’t alone. Something told him he wasn’t alone.
The world had turned off. The party music that had been drifting to him from the gathering only twenty yards away became muffled and distant. Silence enveloped him like a thick blanket on a hot summer’s day.
“Who are you?” he shouted. What else could he do? “I know you’re here.” His heart rate quickened, breath became shallow. “Show yourself!” Automatically, he reached for his wand.
The eerie quiet remained for several moments longer before it evaporated completely, as if it had never existed. Harry was left once again by himself, utterly bewildered. Completely at a loss, he returned rather hurriedly to the reception.
He found Ron and Hermione by the table with the punch bowl sitting atop it.
“What did she say?” demanded Hermione immediately.
“I—she said she didn’t think anybody should have been Disapparating from the Burrow that night—”
Ron cut him off. “How did she sound? Suspicious, like? Worried? What?” he asked, sounding every bit as demanding as Hermione. He was anxious to know if his theory of a traitor in the Order could have been true.
“Hell, Ron—I don’t know how she sounded. Confused, I suppose. Listen, though… something weird happened over there.” He nodded his head towards the field outside the yard of the Burrow, at the same time pulling Ron and Hermione away from the crowds. Finding a suitable table away from any potential eavesdroppers, Harry explained what he had experienced once McGonagall had left.
By the time he had finished, Hermione’s brow had taken its familiar position in a deep furrow. She lowered her gaze until it was fixed upon the surface of the plastic lawn table.
“Well?” asked Ron, feigning indignity, but with a smile on his face. His question was directed at Hermione.
Breaking her out of her reverie, she answered, “I don’t know what it was. I’ve never heard of anything like it. What did it feel like, again, Harry?” Her eyes met Harry’s, concern evident in her features.
“Like I said. Like… like an invisibility cloak covering me. I wasn’t alone. I just…” he struggled, looking for a fitting word, “know it—know I wasn’t alone there,” he ended weakly.
Hermione remained quiet.
“Maybe someone in an invisibility cloak?” offered Ron, shrugging.
“That doesn’t explain what Harry felt, Ronald,” countered Hermione, a bite in her tone. Harry suspected her attitude spawned from the fact that she had virtually no idea about what had happened. “Should we ask someone about it?”
“Who?” Harry replied. “McGonagall again? I’d rather not. I wouldn’t even know how to explain it. Besides, Hogwarts will be reopening soon—surely there’s something in the library about what happened.”
At the familiar thought, Ron grinned. “Just like old times, huh?”
Memories of long, tired hours in the Hogwarts library returned to him. Harry grinned as well. “I s’pose.”
Hermione huffed in exaggerated anger. “You both know I’ll be doing all the work anyway,” but couldn’t resist to smile along with them.
* * * * *
The remaining weeks of the summer passed by the Burrow with utmost laziness. No more dramatic occurrences arose, and Ron kept his conspiracies to himself, for the most part. Harry was beginning to feel the pressure of his inevitable journey for the Horcruxes, only to be comforted by any nearby Order member.
Harry noticed that McGonagall’s visits to the Burrow were becoming less and less frequent, and he wondered vaguely how she was preparing for the opening of Hogwarts. He found himself contemplating what could possibly be the reason for the seventh years arriving at the school a day early. Hermione speculated thoughtfully that the senior students would be given some sort of speech about the danger the school, along with the entire wizarding world, was facing (as if they didn’t know already).
As it turned out, Hermione was just about spot-on in her assumption. One late night at dinner in the Burrow, only several days before the 31st of August, a visibly haggard Mr. Weasley explained the situation. “Minerva’s said the staff has agreed it’s important for you seventh years to understand what’s going on with Hogwarts. They want you to be looking out for the younger students.” He said, addressing Ron, Harry, and Hermione.
Gingerly placing a steaming bowl of vegetables on the table, Mrs. Weasley added, “Good idea, if you ask me. Who knows how long the school will stay open? Might as well keep it safe while it’s there.”
“But hasn’t it been quiet, recently?” asked Ginny. “I mean, Voldemort hasn’t done anything in a while, has he? Besides the Dementors, of course.”
There were a few moments of silence before Arthur answered. “Correct. But if Voldemort is in any way predictable, that only means he’s planning something. Something big,” he stated grimly. Standing up, he shoved a half-eaten biscuit in his mouth, kissed Mrs. Weasley, and said, through a stuffed mouth, “Gof to gef back to the offish.” With a crack, he Disapparated.
The rest of the dinner was eaten in relative silence. George and Fred were working, Bill was showing Fleur a “particularly beautiful dragon,” who “wasn’t stubborn; she only knew exactly what she wanted and when she wanted it,” according the Bill himself. The only ones left in the house were Mrs. Weasley, Ginny, Ron, Harry, and Hermione.
It remained that way for a few days—quiet, almost still. The day before the 31st, Mrs. Weasley, accompanied by Ginny, went to Diagon Alley to retrieve the necessities for the upcoming year. Nothing overly notable happened, although Mrs. Weasley did remark that the Alley seemed to be much less crowded than normal.
That night, Harry tried to get to bed at a reasonable hour; they’d be leaving for King’s Cross Station at the crack of dawn the next morning. However, the sleep wouldn’t come. He kept tossing and turning throughout the night, admitting to himself that he was oddly apprehensive about returning to Hogwarts the next day. After all, he wasn’t even sure he would be acting as a student this year. Wasn’t destroying the Horcruxes more important than learning some book-taught lesson?
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Hmm... if this were a chapter, it'd be called "Calm Before the Storm."
As a sidenote, I plan to update at least once before January 6th, and more ideally, if all goes well, perhaps twice before then.