Author's Note:

If you are wondering why I am re-posting the same story all over again, I must admit that I messed everything up while trying to upload the eighth chapter and deleted the story instead. *smacks himself in frustration* And add to that the fact that my computer crashed taking along with it all the chapters that I had written. I am now waiting to log into my fanfiction.net account so as to retrieve the story. In short, it's a long story and I hope to have the story restored in a couple of days.

Harry Potter and The Ancient Secret of War

Chapter One

Life at 4, Privet Drive

“Sirius!” Harry Potter sat up in his bed, feeling drops of sweat coursing their way from inside his skin through to the exterior. He tried to calm himself by inhaling deeply but was clearly finding it difficult to do so. So many things had happened, especially in the past year and a half, that his head ached whenever he tried to recollect the incidents during that time period. Yet Harry felt those thoughts rippling to the surface of his mind whenever he did not want to remember them. It was even worse when he tried to ignore or forget those memories, which were etched into his mind. These memories haunted him mostly at night while he slept, which meant that he was suffering from insomnia, albeit of a mild nature. Evidently, his dreams stopped him from sleeping for more than four hours a day; and that was hardly enough for an about-to-be sixteen year old.

It had been happening every night since he had returned from school. Last year, his dreams had been about Cedric Diggory's death and the long corridor through to the Department of Mysteries. This year, the dream of passing through the corridor had been replaced by those dreams where he saw Sirius Black - his godfather - dying. Tonight's version had been more accusatory. Harry had seen Sirius scolding him for having led himself and his friends into the hands of the enemy. While chiding him for his irresponsible and reckless behaviour, Sirius was saying, “You could have checked me up with the help of the mirror. I thought I had told you precisely that about its purpose.” At that moment, a curse hit Sirius right in the chest and he died, falling through a veil that stood on the dais where he and Harry were standing.

It seemed to Harry that Sirius had fallen into another world altogether. He had tried to call out to him from the right side of the veil but his godfather didn't come back. He was still calling out to Sirius when Harry's dream gave way to the world of reality and he woke up with a start, still calling out the name of his godfather and sweating profusely all over.

It had been the same all through the holidays. Harry really wanted to go back to his school - Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He was a wizard, albeit a student only, but he could do quite a bit of magic with his wand. He was sixteen years old and was without doubt, the most famous teenage wizard of all time. Not that he cared though and the irony lay precisely in that fact, because Harry was famous for something that had happened so early in his life that he did not even remember that incident.

Apparently, the peace of the wizarding world had been disturbed considerably some forty years ago when Lord Voldemort - the most powerful Dark wizard of the century - had started trying to capture power. He had raised a formidable army of Death Eaters (Dark wizards faithful to himself) and many other dangerous creatures like Dementors and the giants. At that time, there had been widespread turmoil in the wizarding world with Voldemort and his Death Eaters killing most of the wizards who stood against them. Even the wall that separated the non-magical world from the magical world was threatened. In fact, it was breached on several occasions when Voldemort and his supporters committed mass murders of Muggles (non-magical people). What with covering up such massacres and fighting Voldemort, the Ministry of Magic was finding it very difficult to maintain order among wizards.

During the height of Voldemort's power, a prophecy had been made about Harry being the only person who could overcome the Dark Lord for good. Having heard the prophecy, Voldemort had decided to kill Harry. He went to the house were baby Harry (he was one then) lived with his parents. After having murdered both his parents, Voldemort had tried to kill Harry. However, the killing curse had deflected back from Harry and rebounded upon Voldemort, who had to flee from the scene, in the form of a spirit without any physical form. That night onwards, there had been an uneasy peace in the wizarding world and Harry had earned the reputation of being `The Boy Who Lived'.

After his parents' death, Harry had lived ten long years with the Dursleys - his only living relatives. Petunia Dursley was the only sister of Lily Potter and that meant that Harry had been condemned to living with her family till he came of age. He had to spend his time at the Dursleys being ill-treated and neglected. At the age of eleven, he had received an owl from Hogwarts telling him that he was a wizard. Harry had never looked back since then and had now completed five years studying magic along with his best friends Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger. Still, he had to return to his aunt and uncle every summer and even though he knew the reason for having to do so, Harry did not find the prospect too comforting.

Although Lord Voldemort had lost his physical form, his spirit had lost none of its potency. He was still as cunning, evil and deceitful as ever. It was this form whom Harry had stopped from regaining power while still being in his first year at Hogwarts. But things had definitely taken a turn for the worse during Harry's fourth year at Hogwarts. At that time, Harry had been a witness to the restoration o0f Lord Voldemort to his old body. Voldemort had killed his fellow student - Cedric Diggory and Harry had barely managed to escape back to Hogwarts, along with Cedric's dead body.

The Ministry of Magic had been oblivious to all that was going on with Voldemort and had taken apart the images of Harry and Dumbledore in a bid to deny the return of Voldemort. It had spent the whole year trying to suppress the truth. Then last month, Sirius had died in the Department of Mysteries. Harry had been confronted by Lord Voldemort yet again and had escaped him (again) - for most part due to the protection provided by Dumbledore.

Ah yes! Albus Dumbledore! Harry's Headmaster at Hogwarts and without doubt, the greatest wizard alive. As the days were crawling by, Harry found himself wishing more and more often that he were powerful like Dumbledore, who had made a life-threatening duel with none other than Voldemort, seem like a casual stroll in the park. Harry wished it so that he could face Voldemort and fight against him as one on par or above him. He desperately wanted for this war between good and evil to end. But he also knew that it was not possible until either he or Voldemort, killed the other. It was destined to be so, according to the prophecy made before Harry's birth.

Voldemort didn't know the complete contents of the prophecy and that had been his undoing when he had tried to kill Harry as a baby. But Dumbledore, on the other hand, had told Harry everything after Sirius' death. However, knowing the secret, that connected Voldemort to him and vice versa, with Voldemort being partly in the dark about the same was, according to Harry, not a thing to be very proud of.

As Harry thought about all these things (he was sitting up on his bed), he caught his breath and calmed down a little. Maybe it was the thought of Dumbledore being on their side - the side of good. Harry knew that Dumbledore would never let anything bad happen to him, if he had the chance. All these thoughts calmed Harry down. However, despite his calmed fears, he knew that he could sleep no more that night.

The repaired alarm clock on Harry's bedstead showed the time to be four in the morning and Harry knew from the experiences of the past few days that it was no good trying to go back to sleep. So he got up and went down to the bathroom to take a shower. He felt that the cold water running down his body would help him forget all those dreams that he'd been having.

As Harry walked down the landing to the bathroom, he was forced to pass by Dudley's room. Harry had to endure listening to his cousin's massive snores. He tiptoed past the rooms to the bathroom, holding his breath and trying in every way possible, not to disturb the Dursleys. Harry preferred the Dursleys asleep because in their woken state, they were bound to shoot nasty glances at Harry, or say unkind or cruel things to him.

As Harry stood in the shower, cold water running down his body, he wondered how it is to live a normal life. Then he laughed at that thought as he realized that there was no such thing as `normal' in his life and that it would possibly be so as long as he lived. Harry believed that if it hadn't been for his friendship with Ron and Hermione, he would have become mad ages ago. What with a murderous maniac after him, he didn't have anything in his life except for his friendship with Ron and Hermione without the fear of death hanging over his head. That is why his friendship was the only thing that he liked about his life. But he knew that for his friends to be safe, he would have to break his friendship with them. He didn't like the prospect and felt a pang of guilt in his chest every time he thought about it but he believed that it was for the best.

Harry suddenly realized that neither Ron nor Hermione had written to him since the last week. They had been particularly careful about writing to Harry everyday, presumably in the aftermath of Sirius' death. Harry had never bothered replying to their letters. If he wanted to get away from them, that would definitely be a start. Still, they had never stopped writing to him till last Saturday. The letters had abruptly stopped at that time. Harry often wondered why and if both of his friends were alright. But something told him that their silence was either due to the fact that he had kept quiet all through or that something that they had mentioned in their last letters had come through.

In his last letter, Ron had written:

Dear Harry,

Hope you are alright and hanging on with the Muggles. Don't worry. Dad has asked Dumbledore about getting you out of there and we will fetch you as soon as he tells us we can. Till then, hang on there mate.

You know, I have finally asked Hermione if she wanted to go out with me. She agreed. Do you believe it? Your best friends are going out on a date! I have decided to Floo to her place and pick her up. I think I will take her to a Quidditch game in London and then we can go have dinner at a wizard restaurant I know of in Diagon Alley. Do you think she will like it mate?

Hang in there Harry. I will be writing to you soon.

Bye.

Ron.

Harry was always amused by the way Ron began his letters. The opening lines were always the same with assurances about taking him away from the Dursleys as soon as possible. He had also not been surprised by Ron asking Hermione out. He had had a crush on her ever since their fourth year and although Ron hadn't said anything, Harry definitely knew that he was attracted to Hermione. Harry was happy for his best friends and hoped that their relationship would work out well. He believed that being together would help them get over his trying-to-break-our-friendship attitude and its aftermath. But Hermione's letter that day had not been very helpful in making Harry believe so. She clearly wasn't enthusiastic as she had written:

Dear Harry,

Hope you are alright. I know it must be difficult for you to live with your aunt and uncle, but you know Dumbledore thinks it is for the best. I hope you understand.

I don't know if Ron told you, but he asked me out for a date tonight. He tells it is something special that he has in mind but I just don't think that something that Ron thinks special will be good news. I mean the only things he thinks special are Quidditch, money and joke shop material. I hope our date has nothing to with any of those. Really speaking, I don't fancy going out with Ron. I mean it is nothing against him, but I just don't think that both of us are cut out for each other. In fact, it is more like the fact there can't possibly be two persons who are so opposite to each other. Still, I hope I am wrong. Maybe I have just evaluated him differently than was required.

Harry, I want you to know that I am incredibly worried about you. You have not been replying to any of my letters and I have heard from Ron that you have given him the silent treatment as well. I hope that nothing is wrong. Harry, please reply to this letter soon or I think I will have to send you a Howler and knock some sense into you.

Love,

Hermione.

Harry was much amused by Hermione's letter. Poor Hermione! She wouldn't have enjoyed Saturday. Harry knew that she hated flying and that she had never flown in the air since their third year when they had rescued Sirius on a Hippogriff. And add to that the fact that Ron was going to take her to a Quidditch game. Well, the less said the better, he thought.

Harry had thought about writing to Ron and getting him to cancel the Quidditch match and take Hermione to see a movie or a play instead. But he knew that was no good. The letter had come in the afternoon and it would be evening before Ron would get his letter. Harry sincerely hoped that Hermione would not mind what Ron had planned for them. After all, he was really excited about the date.

Since it had been a week since he had heard from both of them, Harry believed that they really had a good time and had decided to get together. After all, there is no time better than the holidays to enjoy being with your girlfriend or boyfriend. Not that Harry knew really for he never had a girlfriend. The closest he came to having a girlfriend was being with Cho Chang last year but well, that had ended up in nothing short of disaster for him.

Harry stood in the shower for a full thirty minutes as he tried to sort out his thought process. By the time he turned off the shower and went back to his room, it was a quarter to five - about two hours before any of the Dursleys decided to wake up. Harry decided to read one of his school books in order to while away his time, but after a few minutes of doing so, he decided that wasn't working.

What should I do? He thought to himself. He still had five hours before he could go to work. Yes, he had taken a summer job this year to distract him and keep him busy. He was working in a local ice-cream parlour. He did not think that was a bad job. The owner treated him well and he got a good salary, at least he thought so. The job occupied about twelve hours of his time daily and he was glad for it.

Finally Harry decided to go outside for a run in the morning. First light was just starting to creep in from the east and he thought it would be a good time to go for a run, without attracting the notice of the snobby residents of Little Whinging.

* * * * *

Harry returned to the house after the run only to find that the Dursleys had woken up and were having breakfast. They saw him but didn't make an attempt to notice him. Harry, too, did not try to strike up a conversation. He was well used to this silent treatment that he got from them. At least, they were being civil to him, no doubt due to the threat delivered to him by the members of the Order at the beginning of the holidays.

Harry showered quickly and went down to have breakfast. He grabbed a quick bite and with a polite `I'm off to work' to his aunt and uncle, he walked off to the ice-cream parlour. He had a good day at work. There was a big crowd around and that meant that he was always pre-occupied with something or the other and had little time to think about anything else.

Harry remembered that it was his birthday the next day and he decided to take the day off from work and celebrate it. Okay, the Dursleys wouldn't notice and he would have to spend the day pretty much alone, but Harry decide to do so anyway. He could go watch a movie, and then he could have a nice dinner by himself afterwards. So he asked Mr Rickman, the ice-cream parlour owner, whether he could have the day off. He complied to his request on hearing that it was his birthday and Harry was left with the prospect of celebrating his birthday for the first time since he came to Little Whinging.

As Harry walked down to the Dursleys again towards the night, he felt a sudden sense of dread around himself. He did not know why but it seemed to him that someone, who shouldn't be there, was near him. He started walking quickly and breathed a sigh of relief when he reached the confines of Number 4, Privet Drive.

Harry could have sworn that he hadn't imagined the feeling. But he was surprised when it passed just as he entered the house. Maybe, someone was following him, indeed. Over the past one month, Harry had always practised Moody's famous words - `CONSTANT VIGILANCE'. He was sure that he was being followed around and not just by the members of the Order but by someone else, maybe someone from the Ministry, or worse still, someone from among the Death Eaters.

Harry always had this pricking feeling in his scar nowadays. He knew that it had to do something with the things that Voldemort had been planning in order to capture power. He did not write to anyone about this feeling since he felt that the occurrence was expected now that Voldemort had returned and the news of his return had been accepted by the Ministry. Knowing a bit about Voldemort and having escaped him four times, Harry knew that he must be planning something big in order to get at him. But he was glad at least for the fact that he had not put that plan into motion yet. He felt that his scar would warn him in case anything out of the ordinary happened.

It was actually unnerving. Now that the Ministry had accepted the facts about Voldemort's return, Harry expected something to happen daily. Yet they did not. It seemed that Voldemort had just withdrawn into a shell, since the news of his return broke out in public. Harry felt a bit apprehensive thinking about this for he had expected Voldemort to do something big everyday in order to disturb the uneasy peace that lay over the wizarding world. But that did not happen. Surely the Daily Prophet would have reported if something out of the ordinary had happened. It was all the more obvious since even the cases of Muggle toilets bursting due to some kind of magic were being attributed to Voldemort and his group of Death Eaters. Harry had quite a laugh reading that article (it was probably the only time he had laughed during the entire holidays) and he couldn't help but wonder if Luna Lovegood's father had taken over the Editor's post of the Daily Prophet as well. Harry was sure that whatever evil Voldemort was up to, bewitching Muggle toilets was certainly not one of his plans.

* * * * *

Harry woke up the next morning, feeling a little dizzy. The dreams had disturbed him yesterday night as well, but he was so tired that he had slept uneasily through them. He dressed and went down to the kitchen to have some breakfast. The Dursleys were already there. Uncle Vernon was sitting with a toast in one hand and the paper in the other. Harry almost laughed seeing that a crumb had lodged itself firmly in the midst of his very bushy moustache.

He must have noticed at Harry looking at him in such a bemused expression, since he bellowed, “What are you looking at, boy? Don't you have business to mind?”

Harry sat down quickly. He did not want to start his birthday with a confrontation with someone, even if that someone was one of the Dursleys. He quickly gobbled down his breakfast while thinking that at least he got proper food this summer. Evidently, Dudley had lost quite a bit of weight (though he still looked like an over-sized hippo than a fully-grown elephant) and his school nurse believed that that much weight loss was sufficient to be going on with. So, Aunt Petunia had gone back to her argument of feeding Dudley up in order to prepare Dudley for the upcoming National Junior Boxing Championships and they had gone back to normal food, at least for the present.

After his breakfast, Harry uttered his usual, `Going off to work' excuse and ran out of the house. He had not been foolish enough to tell the Dursleys that he had taken the day off. He decided to go to Mrs Figg's house and meet her. Since she was a Squib, Harry could at least talk to her about the magical world.

But on reaching her house, Harry found that Mrs Figg was not at home. He wondered where she was but could find no answer to his question. So he decided to go to the movies as he had planned. He began walking back in the direction of the theatre, which meant that he had to pass through in front of the Dursleys' house. He was quite careful while passing by. He didn't want the Dursleys to catch him like that.

As Harry rounded the corner down the next block, Dudley and his minions came into view. Dudley's gang had been worse than usual. They had taken to vandalising Little Whinging during the day as well. Although the parents thought that their children were perfect little gentlemen, Harry knew otherwise. He had seen the gang yesterday mugging a young man who was obviously strange to those parts. The weirdest part was that Dudley and his gang were never caught red-handed by anyone which meant that there was no proof that they had done something. (Not that it would matter really, the Dursleys usually turned a deaf ear to all the complaints against their `Ickle Dudders')

But today, it was not Dudley's gang that caught Harry's attention. It was the person who was standing in their midst. The gang had obviously surrounded the woman with the intention of harassing her. She looked vaguely familiar to Harry, who was staring at the group from across the block. She was obviously angry, since she was shouting at Dudley's gang, who were just laughing at her.

Harry walked slowly towards the small crowd, trying to catch a glimpse of who the woman was. He was shocked when he saw her clearly.

Harry gasped as he recognized her. There was still a gap of about half a block between them, but there was no mistaking who she was.

`No, it cannot be. She cannot be here. This isn't real,' Harry muttered to himself.

But there she was, standing and looking threateningly at Dudley's gang. A look of steely determination was on her face. But Harry still could not understand how she was there.

At that moment, she noticed Harry and said, “Hi, Harry! How are you?”

Harry swallowed. No doubt it was her. But his mind were full of questions. How could she be here? How could she be here, in Little Whinging?