Harry Potter, Heir of Gryffindor
Author's Notes:
Disclaimer No, I do not own any of the characters in this story. Neither do I own the Harry Potter Universe. They are all the creations and property of Ms. J.K. Rowling and her very fertile imagination.
Summary This story begins as Harry and the Dursleys pull out of the parking lot at King's Cross Station at the end of Harry's fifth year and carries on through to the end of Harry's sixth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Beyond that I will not say more. Please Read and Review. Your reviews and comments are very important to me.
Thank you,
Brent Braten
Wizards on Privet Drive
As Vernon Dursley pulled away from King's Cross Station he looked in the rear view mirror at the black haired boy in the back seat and, sneering, sarcastically asked, "So what did you do at that ... school of yours this year, boy?"
Harry Potter, whose mind was still reeling from the loss of his godfather, absentmindedly mumbled a response.
"What's that, boy," Vernon demanded loudly, "I couldn't hear you."
Consumed by grief, Harry snapped, his emotions rising to the surface overriding all of the emotional restraints that had kept him both safe and sane over most of the past fifteen years - ever since Dumbledore had placed him on the front step of Number Four Privet Drive on that chilly November night so long ago - and before he could stop himself blurted out, "I got my godfather killed, alright! You happy now?"
A stunned silence filled the car for several seconds as Vernon, his wife, Petunia, and their son, Dudley, all turned to look at Harry. When the traffic light turned green Mr. Dursley turned the car onto one of the main thoroughfares. Moments later Vernon regained his composure and resumed his caustic attitude towards anything magical. "Oh," he sniffed. "Well, at least that's one less freak we'll have to worry about this year."
"Vernon!" his wife scolded. "He saved Dudley's life. The least we can do is be nice to him for five minutes. What else did you do at school?" Petunia asked in a strangely normal voice.
Harry's emotions were still running high and his mind was now on his meeting with Dumbledore on the morning after the battle in the Department of Mysteries. "I found out that I am the only one who can kill Voldemort. I either have to kill him or die trying."
Silence once more fell over the occupants of the car. No one said anything until they reached the M5 and even then the conversation was strained at best. Dudley talked about his year at Smeltings and his boxing title and Vernon talked about his company and his hopes for another successful year. He talked about drills and bits, financial statements and work orders and contracts and some of the labor problems the construction industry was having. He talked about just about everything. It seemed to Harry, as he sank deeper and deeper into his depression, that his uncle was talking just to hear himself talk. On the few occasions he looked up Harry noticed that his aunt was watching him in the rear view mirror with a look of genuine concern on her face.
* * *
"Whose that?" Vernon scowled as they turned onto Privet Drive. A sandy haired man, who looked to be going prematurely grey, was sitting on the stoop in front of number four. He was wearing faded jeans and an oversized, long-sleeved, flannel work shirt.
Harry looked up as they pulled into the drive and, even though he thought he recognized the man as Remus Lupin, pulled his wand out of his pocket and said, "Wait here and be prepared to run. It might be a trap."
