HARRY POTTER AND THE STONE OF DUMBLEDORE’S MANOR

This story takes place Between Harry’s 6th and 7th year. While I have taken some facts, spells, and ideas from the books this story is of my own creation. There are strong sexual situations (some improper), death scenes and some adult language. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!

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ALL RIGHTS TO HP AND AFFILIATED PARTIES ARE THEIR OWN, I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING, AND NO PROFIT HAS BEEN MADE FROM THIS STORY. Special thanks to Dreamweaver1480 for her corrections and Beta on this! The corrections must have been a nightmare! You deserve most of the credit. (No arguments!!)


Chapter one:

The Unavoidable


Ron awoke with a start. His groggy eyes narrowing at the limp form of someone in the other camp bed. Slowly, with a plop of his long legs over the side of the bed, he got up and stretched. Yawning, he rambled over to the sleeping form of Harry. With a sharp prod, the form moaned.

“Come on, Mate. Mum says we have to go into Diagon Alley this morning. You know she’ll be in a right state if we don’t go early.” Ron said, jabbing his finger at the old clock that had his favorite team, The Chudley Cannons, on it.

Harry moaned softly as he got out of the rickety old bed. It had been two days since he had come to the burrow. The Dursleys, as usual, were to uptight to care, and even bid him good riddance before he vanished into the floo network of the fireplace.
Harry dressed quickly, and joined Ron at the breakfast table. Mrs. Weasley, wand held steadfastly in her hand, was stirring the porridge on the stove.

“Morning, boys! Harry, help yourself to some toast dear!” Mrs. Weasley said, smiling at him, before turning to her cooking, Harry grabbed a piece of toast and slathered jam on it.

“Where is everyone?” Ron said, looking around at the nearly empty kitchen. He too had grabbed toast and was eating it hurriedly.

“Your father had a problem at the ministry and had to get on it before the minister had a chance to catch on and interrogate everyone.” Mrs. Weasley said. Then, almost as an afterthought, she said, “And Ginny and Hermione should be down in a bit.”

A gagging noise filled the kitchen. Harry looked over at Ron, who was now red in the face and spurting bits of toast. He grabbed some pumpkin juice and scarfed it down. Then, still red in the face, looked at his mother.

“Hermione? When did she get here?” He asked, setting down his cup and looking at his mother, as if demanding her to do a jig.

“Last night. Arrived late, she did. And you, young man, will clean that up!” Mrs. Weasley said, pointing to the toast crumbs spilled all over the table. Ron grumbled incoherently for a moment then sat silently cleaning the crumbs from the table as Harry finished his toast.

A moment later, the sound of footsteps echoed off the kitchen ceiling. Hermione, followed by Ginny, entered the kitchen. Hermione immediately eyed Harry and ran over to hug him.

“Harry! It’s so good to see you! I’ve just arrived last night by Knight Bus.” She said, letting him go and sitting across from him, next to Ginny.

“Morning Ron.” Hermione said. She looked him in the face as he faintly replied a passable “Hello”. Ginny grabbed a piece of toast and sat quietly eating.

“You boys are to go into Diagon Alley this morning. Remember the list I gave you both. It’s a miracle that Hogwarts is even open. That Dumbledore was a…” Mrs. Weasley abruptly stopped when she saw Hermione and watched her tears trickle and Harry look down at the table. She had forgotten that the memory was still fresh in their minds. She cleared her throat, then started again.

“You are not to dilly-dally around all day. And you two stay together, I imagine the death eaters are out and about,” She said, looking pointedly at Ron, who was still attempting to clean up the crumbs he spilled.

“Bloody Hell, Mum, why don’t you give us a lecture about Death eaters some other time?” Ron said, irritated that she forgot to mention Hermione’s arrival at the Burrow.

“Ronald Weasley! You will not take that tone with me! Now you two better get along before it’s so busy, Ginny will need to use Percy’s old books and robes!” Mrs. Weasley said, turning around and frying some bacon (more, watching the bacon as it cooked itself).

“What about Hermione, Mrs. Weasley?” Harry asked her, his gaze drifting to his other best friend across the table.

“Hermione? Oh, oh, yes….Well, I suppose I have no authority over her. If she wants to go, then fine. Same rules apply to you, young lady. At least you can apparate them into Diagon Alley!” Mrs. Weasley said, now turning and pointing a wand tip at her. Hermione smiled wide at Harry, which made him flutter inside.

Gathered at the Garden door, the three of them dressed in street clothes, they set out along the garden path and into the field behind the burrow. As it was a warm day, Hermione had her hair tied back and Harry and Ron wore short sleeved shirts. The sweat collected on their foreheads as they walked along the narrow path.

“Do you wonder why they left Hogwarts open?” Asked Hermione, after some time of silence. She looked sideways at the two boys, then straight ahead.

“I suppose they didn’t want Hogwarts to shut down, because it’s not what Dumbledore would have wanted. He died because he was protecting those inside, and he wouldn’t want his death to go in vain.” Harry said. Harry had thought a lot about this, every since his Daily Prophet had held headlines that read:


HOGWARTS TO REMAIN OPEN DESPITE HEADMASTER MURDER!
Hermione nodded, though she didn’t say anything more about Dumbledore. All three of them seemed to be lost in thought as they approached the spot where they were to disapparate.

Hermione turned to Harry and Ron. She stuck out her arm for Harry and told him to grab a firm hold. She held out her elbow for Ron, who reluctantly took it. He doesn’t seem to be over the shock of her arrival. Harry mused to himself.

As they took hold of Hermione, they felt darkness melt away as they started to spin. After what seemed like an eternity, Harry and Ron were bounced onto the patchy gravel courtyard of the Leaky Cauldron. Picking themselves up off the ground, they both instinctively looked around for Hermione. She was nowhere to be seen.

“Where is Hermione?” Harry asked Ron, who was also looking around for her. He shrugged, a look of concern crossing his face.

“I don’t know mate. I lost my grip on her and she slipped away.” He said, a little hysterically. Harry maintained a gaze out for her, but he did not see her anywhere.

A sharp tap on the shoulder behind him made him whip his wand out and turn to face its producer. But instead of crying out in shock or ready to launch at his attacker, he laughed

There stood Hermione, her hair untidy, her robe tore in the side, and her face as black as coal. Ron looked at her and laughed, wiping his eyes as he laughed.

“What happened to you?” Harry asked his giggling starting to fade. She looked as if she wanted nothing more than to slap him silly.

“Well, why you two were here giggling, I was apparated to the Owl Emporium, and landed into….Well, Merlin knows what!” She said angrily. She eyed Ron, who was still giggling. He abruptly stopped his giggling and looked around to avoid her gaze.

“If you two are done….Where is the first place we need to go?” She said nastily. Harry thought to himself: You look cute when you’re mad.

Pushing the thought out of his mind, he heard himself tell the other two they needed to get their new books and robes.
Leading them down to Borgin and Burkes Bookstore, Harry tried to wither the memory of what he just thought out of his head. Him like Hermione? They had been best friends since their first year at Hogwarts. Surely, it’s just him being around her all the time? He couldn’t do this to Ron, his best friend since forever?

“Harry, we’re here.” Hermione said, jogging him back to Diagon Alley. The shop seemed to be in shambles. Old Daily Prophets crammed the stone steps that led to the door. The door itself, once a brilliant purple, was now tattered and cracking, the purple long gone. Windows where cracked, and the books once held in high regard outside for display, were old and yellow and full of doxie holes.

“What happened here, mate?” questioned Ron, who looked just as disturbed as Hermione and Harry.

“I haven’t a clue. Your mum did say that the death eaters are out and about. Perhaps it was one of them?” Harry suggested. Hermione scoffed at the idea.

“First, death eaters won’t go parading around town trying to destroy everything. It’s not something Voldemort would allow them to do just yet. And, if you didn’t notice, no other shop is like this. Death eaters don’t destroy just one shop; they take it out on the whole lot.” Hermione streamed, looking at the old books in dismay.

“Well, then, who did this to the shop?” Ron inquired; looking at Hermione’s saddened face. She simply shrugged. She hadn’t the answer, and neither did Harry. With the slump of her shoulders, she marched up the stone stairs, (kicking away old papers), and went into the darkened shop. Harry and Ron followed her in.

Inside the shop, the stench of a fowl odor crept up into the nostrils of the three. Hermione gagged as she rang the silver bell on the small table. After a moment or two, a tall, broad-shouldered man came into view. His long hair dragging next to his chin, he spoke.

“May I help you?” He said, looking at the three of them in turn. Harry gazed at the man, unsure why he was doing it.

“We need some books for school.” Hermione said, handing the man the list they received from Hogwarts. The man looked at the list, nodded, and then went into the back of the shop.

Harry continued to stare after him. Suddenly, the horror of his realization came and went.

“Come on! We need to get out of here!” Harry said, pulling on Hermione’s arm.

“Harry? What are…..” Ron started. He did not finish, because a gruff voice filled the rest of his words.

“Inpedimenta!!” The man with the long hair shouted.

Harry pulled Hermione along just in time as the spell whizzed past her and hit a bookcase behind her. “Reducto!“ Harry heard her shout out as he pulled her along. He heard the man grunt, then a loud bang. Hermione had hit him squarely in the chest. Still running, they ran out the shop door, down the stone steps, and into a nearby ally.

“Harry! Who was that?” Ron said, fully out of breath now. Hermione rubbed her wrist, where Harry had latched on, and looked at him.

“I knew I seen him somewhere! He’s Goyle’s father. He was in the cemetery that night. He’s a death eater!” Harry said, he turned his back on his two friends to look at the opening of the ally they just hid in.

Suddenly, a scream filled the ally. When Harry turned, he turned just in time to see a large wanded hand around Hermione’s neck. Hermione squirmed.

“Don’t run Potter, or she dies!” The voice said.

Harry knew this voice. He looked up, and as he had done at the ministry the night Sirius was killed, looked right into the eyes of Lucius Malfoy.