Harry touches down just behind Tonks, he's shivering in the cold wind, unfortunately he can't perform wandless magic in front of the adults. This means he can't cast any warming charms, Harry is just glad he isn't underwater.
He looks around and grimaces, he doesn't want to be here. The grimy fronts of the surrounding houses are not welcoming; some of them have broken windows, glimmering dully in the light from the streetlamps, paint is peeling from many of the doors and heaps of rubbish lay outside several sets of front steps.
He takes the parchment from Moody. It says:
The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London.
No sooner did he reach the part about number twelve, Grimmauld Place, than a battered door emerges out of nowhere between numbers eleven and thirteen, followed swiftly by dirty walls and grimy windows. It is as though an extra house inflated, pushing those on either side out of its way. Harry stares impassively at it. The stereo in number eleven thuds on.
"Come on, hurry," growls Moody, prodding Harry in the back. The boy glares at him but doesn't further complain.
He glares into the interior of the house and continues as Mrs Weasley comes out of the door of the room where the order members are holding their meetings, which means his dad is inside there. He makes a mental note to himself about talking to the man. With a brief hello and allowing the red haired woman to hug him, he quietly walks up the stairs and away.
Harry crosses the dingy landing, turns the bedroom doorknob, which is shaped like a serpent's head, and opens the door. He sneers.
He catches a brief glimpse of a gloomy high-ceilinged, twin-bedded room; then there is a loud twittering noise, followed by an even louder shriek, he flinches and presses his hands to his ears, and his vision is completely obscured by a large quantity of very bushy hair-- Hermione has thrown herself on to him in a hug that nearly knocks him flat, while Ron's tiny owl, Pigwidgeon, zooms excitedly round and round their heads.
Harry goes rigid in the girl's grasp, his stomach knotting together. This is the same girl that has been planning to take away his mate, the one who became the minister of magic and started all that bloodshed. She's certainly never been the best of influences in his life.
"HARRY! Ron, he's here, Harry's here! We didn't hear you arrive! Oh, how are you? Are you all right? Have you been furious with us? I bet you have, I know our letters were useless–but we couldn't tell you anything, Dumbledore made us swear we wouldn't, oh, we've got so much to tell you, and you've got things to tell us–the dementors! When we heard–and that Ministry hearing–it's just outrageous, I've looked it all up, they can't expel you, they just can't, there's provision in the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery for the use of magic in life-threatening situations–"
He pushes the girl away harshly and dusts himself off. "Save it, Granger! We haven't been friends since last year, don't think I have forgotten what you have done. I don't expect you to understand, really, I don't. What happened happened. Dumbledore has no right to keep me under surveillance, that is an invasion of my privacy, while I understand the reasoning, it doesn't excuse the action. And I don't want to talk about the Dementor attack. I really don't."
"And what about the ministry hearing, aren't you scared of that?"
Harry shakes his head slowly. "Not if I can prepare my defence. I just need to sort my thoughts out and think about my wording, I don't want to sound provocative.
In any case, can you please tell me what's going on? I don't care who does it, if you won't then I'll find a way. I just want to have a bit of time to cool off."
With that he leaves the room in search of the Black library. It's been a lot of years since Harry was last in these walls. He carefully fiddles around with Cedric's letter, still in his pocket unopened.
He doesn't want to read it...but at the same time he has to. Harry wants to know why Cedric hasn't been writing to him. Why he hasn't been using their notebook or necklace. Harry sighs as he carefully opens the double doors to the library. He regrets not having taken anything to write with.
The young teen quickly finds a seat on a black armchair and rests against the back. He sighs relieved, the bit of silence he has here is highly welcomed. If it wouldn't be for the future, Harry suspects he wouldn't be willing to live through all this crap again. The magical world can go fuck itself for all he cares, bit he made a vow on his magic to safe them all from the devastating future that awaits them under Dumbledore's influence over the world and ministry. Harry vowed to both lady magic and lord Death. He has the deities' blessings upon himself.
He stares down at the innocent piece of parchment that is Cedric's letter. Harry knows what he wants...he does,but his petty sense of pride won't let him. Harry wants to be mad at Cedric, he wants to ignore his mate the same way he has been ignored, but he can't do that either... What if it wasn't Cedric's fault in the first place?
With a final sigh, Harry takes the letter out of the envelope and turns it in his hands a couple of times. It's now or never.
Dearest, Harry
I have not been ignoring you. My letters constantly disappear as soon as I tie them to the owl I'm about to send off. Do you think this could be Dumbledore's doing?
Harry glares at the evident fear from that sentence alone. His Cedric is all alone and afraid, and there's nothing he can do about it, which is even more infuriating. If it's true that Dumbledore is the one intercepting their letters, then they are both in more danger than originally anticipated.
Harry stops clenching his fists subconsciously upon hearing the parchment in his hands crinkle and almost tear. He takes a few deep steadying breaths before continuing to read the letter.
I've been doing as best as I can with my father. Also, my empathy has become stronger over the last month, these emotions are a constant buzzing in the back of my head and sometimes it becomes too overwhelming.
Again Harry feels that same cold fury welling up inside of him, Amos Diggory will sorely pay for what he has been doing to Cedric. Harry is glad that Cedric hasn't been ignoring him but terrified that an unknown force is tampering with their connection. That there is someone out there who wants to keep them apart, to drive them apart. Harry can't let that happen no matter the cost.
And that thing inside me has also been eerily silent. Do you think I will snap like that again? What if I do? I don't want to hurt you again.
Please be careful with what you say at your hearing. I'll try to be there, but unfortunately I can't promise anything. I really wish this letter reaches you. Never forget that I love you. You will always be the best thing I've ever had the pleasure of having, does this sound too possessive? In any case, I love you with all my might.
Sincerely yours,
Cedric.
Harry can't help the small grin escaping his lips, Cedric is still too self-conscious for his own good, but that's what makes him so lovable. Harry knows he should be doing something for Cedric. Anything to help calm him down...
Something must have happened to make Cedric that worried and that has nothing to do with Harry's hearing in a few days. The black haired teen hopes that his mate will be there and even if he can't be there...Harry now knows that he hasn't been ignored.
He sighs once more and folds the letter back into the envelope, before pushing it down into his pocket. Then he stands up and walks over to one of the tall shelves filled with books. All he wants to do now is get a good read in and delve deep into the world of fiction. It's been quite a while since he has last just relaxed and read a fictional novel. Preferably he would read Mary Shelley, but he's left all the books upstairs and he is not willing to go back up.
Resigned he scavengers through the many selections of books the Black library has in store. As expected from a pureblood family, there are no Muggle novels. Over time, Harry has figured out that muggles are much better writers than the magical folk, this is probably due to the fact that muggles don't believe that magic exists. As much as Harry hates muggles he has to give them credit for many things. They are, after all, formidable foes in combat. His eyes quickly land on an ancient tome. With his curiosity peaked he takes the black covered tome out, he dusts the black leather off and his eyes widen with joy and excitement. This is no ordinary tome, this is a grimoire. And not just grimoire... It's one of Slytherin, he shouldn't be too surprised by this, considering the Blacks were one of the most notorious Death Eater families. However they got in possession of this grimoire, it doesn't matter now. This brings new developments and knowledge with it. Harry can't wait to learn parselmagic and the secrets of the most noble and ancient house of Slytherin, the house he won by right of conquest.
He quickly walks back to the chair and sits himself down.
If he can play his cards right he can convince Sirius of making him the sole heir of the Black family again. Then Harry won't have to worry about Draco claiming this manor. Then all these books and ancient tome will be at his disposition whenever he needs them. Excitement fills his very core,a deeply rooted desire wraps around his very being. Perhaps he can find something on Empaths in this library too, that certainly would help.
But most importantly Harry needs to find out more about Vessels and those "spirits" or whatever those things are...he has to do this for Cedric, they have to figure this out as soon as they can. There is no time to waste, stopping Dumbledore can be done in due time, there are far more pressing matters to tend to. Threats that the time traveller thought he left in the past are all coming back tenfold now...they are deeply rooted within their story and in magic itself. If only there were a place of origin...a place where everything began. The place where magic is at home and everywhere you go. The place of magic's origin into their world. There has to be such a place somewhere. The question herein lies, where?
He looks through intricate notes, detailing each aspect of magic so far known, wards, compulsions, charms, transfigurations, curses, you name it. While all interesting, they don't help Harry getting closer to any of his pressing questions. His hands tremble with unadulterated excitement at the prospect of research. This brings back memories from the past, back when he was still living with Theo and Neville. He misses those times, but at the same time he is happy to be back in time, namely because he has succeeded in keeping Cedric alive and now Harry is striving to become a prefect for the following years. Keeping tap on the ministry is also key, just good that he convinced Percy to help him out and now he has Tonks at the Auror department. If he can forge more connections at school he will have even more influence in the future, seeing as all students currently enrolled at Hogwarts are the future of their society. They are still young but one day they will all grow up and with the impending war they will have to grow up earlier than anticipated.
He sighs, he wants to safe magic and all those magicals that still have hope of change. If only the wizarding world would wake up and think for themselves, then they would know that they can't just put all their faith onto one boy alone and turn away whenever they please. Actions have consequences and if he has to then Harry will teach this valuable lesson to the world around him. He won't safe them...at least not in the way that the magical world is expecting.
A dark grin spreads across his face. Just they wait and see...
...
CRASH.
This telltale moment instantly comes back to Harry as he jumps off the chair and shrinks the tome quickly stashing it away into his robe pocket. The next words flood his ears as he tries not to snicker at the upcoming events.
"Tonks!" cries Mrs Weasley in exasperation, from somewhere up the stairs. Harry meanwhile navigates over to the corridor and stops Infront of the moth eaten velvet curtains.
"I'm sorry!" wails Tonks, who is lying flat on the floor. "It's that stupid umbrella stand, that's the second time I've tripped over–"
But the rest of her words are drowned by a horrible, ear-splitting, blood-curdling screech.
The moth-eaten velvet curtains flew apart, but there is no door behind them. Harry stares unperturbed at the life-sized portrait of the late Lady Black. His eyebrows raise uninterested, but his hands fly up to cover his ears. The old woman in a black cap is screaming and screaming as though she is being tortured. Harry grimaces at her.
The old woman is drooling, her eyes are rolling, the yellowing skin of her face stretches taut as she screams, and all along the hall behind them, the other portraits awake and begin to yell, too.
Harry glares up at Walburga. "Can you shut up?! Go back to sleep, you old hag. There's a reason you are still here yet you could just as easily be obliterated by a simple fire spell. I'd advise not going against my nerves. I may be a half blood, but I have pureblood ancestry." His eyes glow a dark black, yet contrary to his wishes, the portrait of Walburga Black intensifies her screaming and she screeches louder than ever, brandishing clawed hands as though trying to tear at his face.
"Filth! Scum! By-products of dirt and vileness! Half-breeds, mutants, freaks, begone from this place! How dare you befoul the house of my fathers–"
Tonks apologises over and over again, dragging the huge, heavy troll's leg back off the floor.
Harry sighs and rests a palm upon the frame of the portrait. "I did warn you, Lady Black." And instantly her screams and screeches turn silent. She looks confused for a moment and then goes back to throwing a silenced tantrum. Harry sighs in relief and draws back the curtains in front of the woman.
Meanwhile mrs Weasley hurries up and down the hall, Stunning all the other portraits with her wand; and a man with long black hair comes charging out of a door down the corridor.
"Shut up, you horrible old hag, shut UP!" he roars, seizing the curtain, that Harry just drew back. Dismayed, Harry pouts and turns his face away from the man that helped taking everything away from him.
The old woman's face blanches.
"Yoooou!" she mouths, still unable to speak out loud, her eyes popping at the sight of the man. "Blood traitor, abomination, shame of my flesh!"
"I said–shut your mouth!" roars the man, albeit a bit confused by the fact that his mother can't utter a word, and with a stupendous effort he and Remus manage to force the curtains closed again, something Harry did just a few seconds earlier with ease...why did Sirius have to reopen those blasted curtains?
Harry turns completely away from the man with a sour look, that quickly melts away at the sight of his dad. This didn't happen last time, but then again Harry has to remind himself that Severus now remembers him.
The old woman's silent screeches die and an echoing silence falls. Panting slightly and sweeping his long dark hair out of his eyes, Harry's godfather Sirius turns to face him, only to be met by the back of his godson. Sirius follows Harry's gaze over to Snape, he sneers and then refers to his godson.
"Hello, Harry," he says grimly, "I see you've met my mother."
"So I have..." His voice is distant and cold. "I would not mind going downstairs to the kitchen. I have not eaten much, since someone neglected to find the rat and prove their innocence, therefore I have been stuck for almost two months at my loving relatives place." Harry puts emphasis on the loving and is satisfied to see Sirius flinch.
"What is Snape doing here?! I thought he never stays for dinner?"
"Indeed he doesn't, I don't know why you are still here, Snivellus, but you better not stir any trouble for my godson!"
Severus scoffs at the lord of the house of Black. "I wouldn't dream of it. I don't care what that insolent brat wants! He is just like his father!"
Harry stops himself from grinning, his dad just compared them, Harry has to admit he has a lot of things in common with his black eyed father. Now it's an honour to be compared to the youngest potions master since over a century. Harry will make sure to change that very soon.
"Sirius, the kitchen. If you may lead the way?"
Sirius blanches at the tone and choice of words. This is nothing like his godson, then again Harry never wrote back to him or told him about the Triwizard tournament. Sirius found out through the daily prophet and that knowledge alone pained him deeply, it's as though he is losing his godson all over again.
"Sirius?"
A sharp edge to the word. Sirius instantly detects the hidden hatred and loathing in that single word. What might have happened to Harry? What if...but that can't be!
Harry can't know the truth! They all made sure that Harry would never find out, and now that Sirius thinks about it he feels terrible. The guilt never stopped plaguing him, not even in Askaban. Of Harry knows the truth then it's no wonder he would hate Sirius.
As if reading his thoughts Harry smirks up at him, looking with cold dark eyes into grey over his shoulder. Harry mouths a small, "I know."
Sirius gulps, he has never seen a face like that on anyone and he has seen many things over the course of the war...just how did Harry find out?