Mirror
Chapter Two~~~Back To Grimmuald
“…Sirius?” Harry looked desperately into the mirror. He flipped it over and over in his cold, clammy hands. “Come on Sirius. Talk to me dammit!” Harry had tears running down his face now. He looked at it, and was about to put it on his desk when it started to vibrate. He stared in amazement, and then almost dropped it on the floor as it began to grow hot. His heartbeat thundered in his ears. The mirror then began to wail, as if a thousand pained people were screaming as loud as they could. Sparks began to fly from it and Harry let go. It clattered to the ground, unbroken. The mirror continued to vibrate faster and faster, screaming louder and louder. Then it stopped, lay paralyzed on the ground for a spilt second, and exploded. Harry covered his face with his arms, and felt himself being peppered with sharp pieces of glass. When he thought it was safe, Harry lowered his uncovered his face. There, in the middle of his room, was a burn mark on the carpet. What on earth had just happened?
Harry, ignoring the blood now running down his arms and chest, knelt next to the burn mark. Just then the door banged open. Uncle Vernon stomped in, followed by Aunt Petunia and Dudley. There was a deafening silence as the Dursleys took in Harry’s arms, and then the burn mark on the carpet. Aunt Petunia covered her mouth with her hands, and pulled Dudley to her. Vernon still hadn’t moved. Harry stood up, and stared forlornly at them. Then Aunt Petunia spoke up, running to the spot in the carpet and completely ignoring Harry’s injuries.
“What have you done to my beautiful carpet?!” she wailed, glaring at him. “What were you doing in here, you horrible boy!” and without waiting for an answer, she stormed out of the room, pulling Dudley along with her. That left Harry alone with Vernon.
“What were you doing?!” Vernon whispered menacingly.
“Playing with matches,” Harry said, not paying attention to Vernon, but examining his cuts. His Uncle was shaking with fury, but Harry brushed by him as he went to wash the blood off himself. Vernon grabbed his shoulder roughly ignoring the fact that it might be painful, and turned Harry to face him. Harry wrenched out of his brutal grip.
“Get off me!” Harry seethed.
“Not until you listen to me,” Vernon said. “I know you weren’t playing with matches, I’m not stupid. Now I don’t give a damn if you write your little letters to mummy, telling on me. But I WILL NOT allow…” Vernon lowered his voice, “magic, in my house.” With that, he left, knocking Harry out of his way. Harry waited until Vernon was out of earshot, and then went into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. He turned on the faucet and grabbed a wash cloth. Wetting it, he began to wash the blood off of his arms. When he was finished, he went downstairs, feeling hungry. His mind was filled with the sounds of screaming, his vision blocked by the memory of that mirror. What had happened? Was Sirius one of those screaming voices? His thoughts were interrupted by the door bell. Petunia rushed in to answer it. When she saw him, her whole face was contorted in rage.
“Hide, you,” she hissed. Harry did so, but so he could hear who it was.
“Hello, Petunia. How are you today?” said a familiar voice from the front door.
“Hello, Mrs. Figg. I’m just fine thank you. Would you like to come in?” Petunia replied. Harry heard her open the door wider.
“Oh, no thank you. I’ll be quick. I was just wondering…” Mrs. Figg paused. Harry could tell she was nervous about something. She sounded like she was back at Harry’s hearing, repeating what somebody had told her to say. “There is a summer camp I heard of, and I thought of your nephew right away. It’s a disciplinary sort of thing, you know, sort of like a boot camp. Well, I thought it would be nice for him to try it, as he is always getting into trouble. He would stay at this camp until school started. I’m sure you would miss him awfully, but I thought it my neighborly duty to inform you.” Mrs. Figg stopped, and took a deep breath. Harry almost laughed out loud. What a load of tosh! He grinned, knowing that Petunia was most likely eating it all up.
“Well…” said Petunia, trying not to sound too excited. “Well, I suppose that would be alright. Where should we take him? And how soon?”
“Oh, well it starts today, actually. And I would be happy to take him for you.” Harry crossed his fingers.
“Well, of course. The boy needs some teaching in manners. HARRY!” Harry stepped out of his hiding place. He spotted Mrs. Figg, wearing her floppy slippers and her usual handbag. She winked at him behind Petunia’s back. Harry tried not to smile. “Harry,” Petunia said. “Go and pack your things. You’re going to a disciplinary summer camp.”
“Yes, Aunt Petunia,” Harry said politely, and hurried to pack his things. When he got back downstairs, his trunk was ready and packed full of his Hogwarts books and such. He had Hedwig’s cage was tucked under his arm. Petunia and Mrs. Figg were chatting and lying about how their life was going. Harry cleared his throat, and Mrs. Figg’s face showed obvious relief. “Goodbye Auntie Petunia,” Harry said smiling. He bent down and pecked her on the cheek. He took immense pleasure, as he knew she couldn’t do anything about it in front of Mrs. Figg. Harry also knew that as soon as he was out of the house she would go and scrub her cheek raw. Aunt Petunia nodded stiffly, and Harry left out the door.
As soon as Mrs. Figg had closed the door behind them, she let out an audible sigh of relief.
“What a piece of work that woman is!” she said, shaking her head. “Come on now, don’t dawdle. Put your things in the trunk,” she said, indicating to the trunk of her car.
“Where are we going?” Harry asked as he heaved his stuff into the trunk.
“To Grimmauld Place! Where else?” she said irritably as she got in the drivers seat. Harry’s heart soared. Finally! He was leaving this Hell hole. He got in the passenger seat. Her car smelled strongly of cats, but Harry didn’t mind. He was going to see his two best friends.
When they arrived at Grimmauld place, it dawned on Harry that he hadn’t entered it since Sirius had died. It filled him with a sudden melancholy. He got out of the car and lifted his trunk onto his shoulder. Mrs. Figg carried Hedwig, and together they trotted into the house.
Harry looked around at the gloomy place. He remembered when he had thought that he had entered the house of a dying person. He had been right. His throat closed in on itself as he set his trunk down.
“If you’ll excuse me, I really need to find Shacklebolt. I’m sure your friends are upstairs,” said Mrs. Figg, handing Harry his owl. Harry nodded, too choked up to speak. He stood alone in the empty room, looking at the stairs leading to the bedrooms. He cleared his throat; he couldn’t let his friends see how upset he was. They would pity him and that was the last thing he wanted. Just then a door to the right banged open and Snape barged in. All at once Harry’s insides coiled into a knot. Snape had always been nasty to Sirius. Snape stopped dead at the sight of Harry. Was that fear in his cold black eyes?
A/N: please let me know what you think. I'm hoping to get the next chapter done soon. Read it. Review it.