Number 12 Grimmauld Place never felt like home; not when he was with Sirius, not that fateful visit when Arthur Weasley was confined in St. Mungo’s and most certainly not the last time he saw Sirius there; the moment when he handed over the mirror for Harry to use.

It pained Harry to even step out of the fireplace and into the kitchens. He peered around hoping that somehow, Dumbledore made a mistake and they ended up somewhere, anywhere except here.

Dumbledore tapped on the piles of parchment on the kitchen table and it moved to reveal someone sleeping. There were still a lot of parchments so he couldn’t see who it was but when he glanced upon a shabby set of wizards’ robes, he smiled.

This won’t be as bad as I thought.

“Professor Lupin!” said Harry, moving in to shake Remus Lupin’s shoulders.

Remus’ eyes opened immediately, he looked to be on the alert, as if he wasn’t just sleeping. He had on the same robes he wore last summer and his hair looked like it was competing with Harry’s.

He turned to his left and smiled, “Harry, how are you?”

Remus stood up to stretch, yawning loudly in the process.

“A bit tired; what’re all these?” said Harry, pointing at the piles of parchment.

“Nothing important, just some research for the Order,” said Remus, smiling broadly.

Remus was about to sit down again when Dumbledore suddenly spoke.

“Have you seen Arthur, Remus?” said Dumbledore softly.

Remus jumped, he didn’t see Dumbledore at first, and he was hidden behind the parchment in front of him.

“In one of the bedrooms, I think,” said Remus, surprised that Dumbledore had been there all along, “He brought something that was called a letty fone, or other. He was in there all day, raising this bent wand shaped object to his mouth and shouting.”

Harry struggled not to laugh; he was a bit amused that Mr. Weasley still shouted on the telephone even after that incident with the Dursleys.

“Don’t worry sir, I’ll go get him,” said Harry, grateful to be able to talk with Mr. Weasley again and be out of Dumbledore’s reach for a little while.

“Go ahead, Harry,” said Remus.

Harry was about to exit the kitchen when he heard Dumbledore speak again.

“Severus will arrive shortly to relieve you, Remus.”

Harry turned around, walking back to stare at Dumbledore.

“You didn’t tell me Snape’ll be here!” snapped Harry, aggravated that Dumbledore conveniently forgot to tell him details again.

“Professor Snape, Harry. I might have allowed you that time in my office but I most certainly do not condone disrespect,” said Dumbledore in a tone that made Harry’s annoyance subside just a bit.

“Yes sir,” Harry mumbled grudgingly, “I’ll go get Mr. Weasley then.”

He turned around and stomped out of the kitchens, pausing to make sure he wouldn’t slam the door.

Acting childish around Dumbledore is one thing, but I don’t want Mr. Weasley and Professor Lupin to see me like this.

*****

He found Mr. Weasley pacing in the first floor bedroom, the one where he and Ron slept in when they were there for the summer.

“Hello? Hello! Hello? This is Arthur Weasley, Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office for the Ministry of Magic. Hello? Brilliant contraption this is, but how in Merlin’s name do they make it work alone?”

Mr. Weasley was holding the telephone base to his ears, the handset was flopping about in the air, it’s cord knotted in so many ways that it looked like a giant ball.

“Hullo Mr. Weasley,” said Harry in a cheerful tone, lingering in the doorway.

Mr. Weasley dropped the telephone in surprise. He was moving to grab his wand when he saw that it was Harry talking to him. Sighing in relief, he smiled broadly and moved to hug Harry.

“Harry, my boy, how are you?” clapping Harry’s shoulders, Mr. Weasley looked thinner than ever, rivalling Harry’s frame.

Why does everyone look like me nowadays? Must be pretty tense in the Order.

He once again felt jealous of not being in the Order, telling himself that he simply wasn’t ready and should deal with it, he struggled to return Mr. Weasley’s smile.

“I’m fine, Mr. Weasley. How’s everyone?”

“Just smashing, Harry, everyone’s missed you. We hope you decide to visit the Burrow this summer,” said Mr. Weasley, sounding very happy.

“Hope so, Mr. Weasley, I’m not sure if Professor Dumbledore would allow me though,” said Harry, making sure that Mr. Weasley heard the regret in his voice.

“I’ll try to talk to him Harry, if you want to that is,” said Mr. Weasley, his fatherly tone made Harry feel a twinge of jealousy but he let it pass.

“That’d be great Mr. Weasley,” Harry smiled genuinely. He couldn’t imagine living the rest of his summer with the Dursleys again; not when he feels so weary. “By the way, Professor Dumbledore was looking for you.”

“He was? Goodness, I’ve got to go see him then. Mustn’t keep Dumbledore waiting, you know.”

Oh, I know.

“Yeah, I’ll follow you out. I’ll just sit around for a bit.”

“Alright Harry, it was nice to see you again.”

“Same here, Mr. Weasley,” said Harry. He was hoping to sleep for a while; his early discussion with Dumbledore drained him too much. Lying down on the bed, he looked up at the ceiling, trying to force himself to sleep.

Honestly, what do we need Dementors for? We could just pass around talking portraits of Dumbledore if you needed to be shamed to tears. Not that I was reduced to tears, it just felt so –

“Harry?”

Harry looked up from the bed; it was Professor Dumbledore standing in the doorway. Remus was right behind him, smiling at Harry.

He sat up straight, playing with the edges of his jumper, “Yes, Professor?”

“I have to accompany Arthur for a while, I’ll be back soon.”

“Sure, Professor,” Harry felt glad that he wasn’t being asked to start sorting through Sirius’ things already. He was just too tired.

Dumbledore left the room, midnight-blue robes swirling as dramatically as Snape’s usually did.

Snape.

His features darkened when he remembered that Snape would be arriving later.

Sensing Harry’s tension, Remus sat down on one of the chairs near the bed.

“Harry, why don’t you sit here and we’ll talk,” Remus patted the chair next to him.

Wordlessly, Harry stood up from the bed then crossed over to the chair where he sat down, running a hand through his hair, doing nothing to make it look remotely presentable.

Searching around for a topic, Harry grinned when he asked, “Do you know who got the DADA post?”

Lupin laughed, looking relieved at the subject.

“Don’t get your hopes up, Harry” Remus uncharacteristically waggled his eyebrows at this.

Harry scoffed, “When did I ever? I mean,” he realized his gaffe when he remembered Remus was the one he was talking to, “that was before I had you for Defence and obviously, you were the best –”

“Harry,” Remus sounded amused, “go ahead, I’m pretty thick skinned – or rather, ‘furred’ may be the proper word.”

Smiling, Harry went on, “It’s just that,” he counted off his left hand, “I get Voldemort on the back of a stuttering head, an obliviating fraud that ended up in St. Mungo’s permanently –”

“I heard that Professor Lockhart was doing considerably well,” interrupted Remus quietly.

“If you could call trying to sign autographs every second of the day ‘well’ then, yeah, he is very well, really.” Harry remembered last year’s winter holidays, shaking his head at the memory of Lockhart trying to force upon them his autograph.

“Anyway,” said Harry, “don’t interrupt me; then I got an impostor with a magical eye who tried to hand me off to Voldemort and just lately, a crackpot ministry hag who wants to carve in some stupid lines on the back of my hand!” he waved around his hand for emphasis.

Remus’ eyebrows shot up and stared at Harry’s left hand. “Did she really?” he whispered.

Harry felt ashamed of brandishing his hand around, he hated having people pity him yet here he is, practically begging for attention.

“Don’t mind that, it’s just a scratch anyway…” He searched around for anything else to say.

“You forgot something.”

“Professor?”

“You forgot to mention an extremely rabid werewolf that almost ripped you and your friends to shreds, unintentionally, of course,” said Remus, smiling slightly.

“Well, to tell you the truth, Professor,” said Harry, happy for the change in subject, “it’s a bit easier to make adjustments when he just so happens to be a chocolate sharing werewolf who was best friends are my dad and Sirius…”

Remus grinned slightly, playfully shoving Harry’s shoulders.

“Hey, that hurt!” Harry laughed, trying to push Remus but he wouldn’t budge.

“I didn’t do anything!” chuckled Remus, shoving Harry to the side.

“Oof!” Harry fell off the chair, rubbing his shoulders, he tried to shove Remus with all his might, “You bully! You’re a grown man who has the strength of a werewolf and you’re picking on a soon-to-be 16 year old!”

Remus held off Harry’s arms then stood abruptly, causing Harry to fall into the chair.

“That’s tomorrow, right?” Remus tried to ask, he was laughing so hard that Harry couldn’t understand what he was saying.

“What was that?”

“Your birthday, tomorrow, right?” asked Remus; he was still shaking with mirth but he managed to say it clearly.

“Yeah…” Harry sat down properly.

“Any plans?”

“Not really, I’m staying with the Dursleys.”

Someone knocked on the doorway, it was Dumbledore.

“Harry, I’ve returned.”

“That was quick, sir. How was it?”

“Perfectly fine, Harry. I just wanted to remind you of some matters.”

“Sure, Professor.”

““My boy, the Black Family has been known to apply all sorts of protective magic on even the simplest of objects.”

“I know that sir,” said Harry plainly.

“We,” Harry knew that Dumbledore referred to the Order, “have tried our best to put aside those that we felt wary of but Sirius’ personal possessions were left untouched for you to sort through.”

Harry stared but Dumbledore was obviously waiting for an answer of some kind. “Ok…” he whispered.

“Harry, you of all people should know not to meddle with charmed objects which do not reveal their purpose at once.”

“Always, sir.”

“You should be responsible for your actions and refrain from touch things which seem, in any way, dangerous.”

“Of course sir.”

“Never identify yourself or offer information to anything”

“Yes sir.”

“Lastly, Harry, if ever you need any help, Professor Lupin will stay here to assist you.”

“Ok sir but, not to be rude or anything…” Harry tried to his best to keep his voice calm, his anger was slowly building up again, “I know better than to toy around with anything I’m suspicious of. After everything that happened in the Chamber of Secrets, I’m pretty sure I learned that lesson quickly.”

Dumbledore looked at Harry, looking like he was calculating if Harry’s reply would suffice.

“Sir is there anything I should know?” said Harry a little too sharply.

“Nothing, Harry.”

Harry dropped his gaze to the floor. The thought that Dumbledore was once again keeping secrets from him made him feel, if that was possible, even more apprehensive.

Dumbledore glanced at Harry once more then bid farewell to him and Remus as he entered the Floo.

A few seconds had passed when Harry realized that he had been holding his breath the whole time Dumbledore was leaving.

“He’s a bit careful, nowadays,” said Remus, clearly amused.

Harry felt vaguely grateful that Remus spoke up first; he thought he might Floo out of Grimmauld Place if his nerves didn’t settle down.

“A bit? He’s like Mad-Eye Moody with a beard!”

Remus smiled as he motioned to the door at the end of the kitchen.

“So, Harry,” said Remus, “is it time to go down to the cellar?”

*****

The cellar was a dark and musty room as big as the kitchen. There were no windows or openings of any kind save for the door where they came in, the feeling that the walls were taunting him, as if wanting to confine him, grew considerably, making Harry want to forget anything that Dumbledore wanted him to do.

A single crate stood in the centre of the room. It was roughly the same size as his school trunk though he could see that generations of use turned it to a state where Harry could reduce it to sand if he so much as breathes on it.

Harry walked to it, stopping when he was an arms length away from touching it. He looked back at Professor Lupin, who was standing at the doorway, watching Harry.

“Professor, are you sure that it’s alright to touch that crate?” he said, apprehension getting the best of him.

“Yes, Harry,” Remus looked at Harry seriously, “we’ve checked it for hexes and curses; it’s safe.”

Harry looked at the crate, still wary about touching it.

“Professor – um – is this it?” asked Harry, pointing at the crate, “it just seems a bit – er – small.”

Remus smiled, “It’s charmed with the Foramena spell. You use it if you need more space then what’s allowed. It’s a bit complicated though so you’d be better off if you just bring the things you want. I can’t do it myself but in my position, I don’t really need to.”

Harry’s face burned, he knew that Remus wasn’t rich but hearing it from him… “Oh yeah, just like Crouch’s trunk…” Harry remembered seeing the real Moody inside a deep room when he remembered something he wanted to ask Lupin last year, “Where were you in my fourth year, professor?”

Harry saw Remus stiffen and he immediately regretted asking; Harry knew that it was the year after he got sacked from Hogwarts and Harry never even bothered to write him.

“I’m sorry, Professor. It’s just that – um – sorry if I didn’t get to write you much, you know, with the Triwizard Tournament and stuff... I mean – er – the Tournament was a stupid excuse anyway, I still should have wrote you, I’m really –”

“You sound like you’ve been drinking some Babbling Beverage, Harry,” said Remus, trying to lighten the mood. It was very depressing down in the cellar so his attempt made Harry smile.

“It’s true that I did mean to write you though,” Harry knew it was a lie. He didn’t even think of Remus, much less the thought of writing him.

“I know, Harry.”

With that, Harry stepped toward the crate and tried to pry it open with his hands.

“Oof… Did Dumbledore leave us a crowbar or something to open it with?”

Remus gave Harry an incredulous look then said a quick spell.

The crate’s flap opened with a pop and settled itself next to Harry.

“Are you alright, Harry? Do you feel dizzy or nauseated? Maybe you should –”

“I’m not going to sick up! I just… forgot,” said Harry, wondering why he didn’t think of using his wand in the first place.

Harry sat down in front of the crate, sifting through the piles of objects inside. They looked ordinary enough, nothing that looked even remotely dangerous. Still, he placed them on the floor very gently; an explosion in the cellar wasn’t what Dumbledore would classify as “responsible actions”.

Sorting them into two piles (one to chuck into Gringotts and another to shove in the rubbish bin) took hours; Harry didn’t realize that the Foramena spell worked this impressively. He really should have Dumbledore teach him how to do it.

After a while, Harry felt completely bored. He honestly thought that going through Sirius’ things would be interesting but so far, all he found were old books he was sure Sirius had never read and some articles of clothing.

“Professor,” Harry called out to Remus in the kitchen, “are you sure these are all Sirius’ stuff?”

“We found those in his bedroom,” said Remus, sticking his head out quickly then vanishing back into the kitchen.

Harry frowned; he couldn’t see why Sirius would keep those things.

The last item inside the crate was a diary; at least, it looked like a diary. It was a black, tatty old thing with its spine mangled and torn. It didn’t hold a lock so Harry flipped through it.

This must’ve belonged to Sirius’ mum.

The diary itself was blank; as he was flicking over the pages, a piece of parchment fell out and fluttered to the ground.

Harry picked it up delicately with his wand. It looked much older than the diary, the edges were frayed and deep brown with age yet the centre of the parchment was a startlingly clear silver colour.

“Lumos,” said Harry, wanting to examine the parchment. Nothing was written on it except a single tiny sentence at the bottom-right portion; Noli Me Tangere. Harry guessed it was Latin but he wasn’t sure. He wouldn’t have seen the sentence if he wasn’t squinting so hard anyway, it was barely readable.

It didn’t look like it was safe yet Harry couldn’t seem to put it back in the diary. A feeling in his gut told him that there was more to this parchment than that sentence.

He struggled to remember what spells Hermione used for Riddle’s diary. The thought of the diary made Harry pause and think about what he was about to do.

Dumbledore told you more than 5 times to be careful, said a distant voice in his head.

I am being careful, what’s dangerous with using a few simple revealing spell, this time it was his normal voice that he heard.

He inhaled sharply and for a split-second, he thought he saw something appear on the parchment.

Must be my imagination.

Shaking his head, Harry picked up the parchment. He didn’t feel any different so he doubted that the parchment was hexed.

Remembering the incantations, he tried his luck.

“Aparecium,” nothing happened.

“Specialis revelio,” still nothing, Harry felt disappointed. It was nothing but a piece of parchment after all.

I really need to work on my spells this summer.

Harry sighed loudly, he was about to pocket it again when an image suddenly emerged into the parchment.

In the parchment was Voldemort, lying face down on the ground, dead, and Harry was standing over him, wand out and pointed at a body next to him.

Harry couldn’t breathe.