A Cup of Tea, Please

7 | Grimmauld Place

Travelling to Number 12, Grimmauld Place was near instant though a bit uncomfortable, as Hermione had convinced Harry to use the Floo Network rather than Apparating. Apparently she was concerned about him being splinched from Apparating so often and she also brought up the nasty feeling akin to being squeezed through a tight pipe that Harry had complained about, which was years ago. Harry didn't even remember that himself.

He agreed to using the Floo Network since he realised that Apparating so early in the night could also be risky, for some Muggles (especially the younger ones) could still be potential witnesses. It wouldn't bode well for Harry to appear in the sights of a group consisting of adolescent boys in distasteful black coats that reek of some unknown substance (Do they even shower?), who wouldn't hesitate to knock the wind out of him. Also considering the fact that magic in the presence of Muggles would certainly get Harry into a lot of trouble with the Ministry . . . again.

Despite the uneventful day, Harry's eyelids drooped as he stepped out of the fireplace into the kitchen. Faced with a wall of solid darkness, he pulled his wand out of his jean pocket and illuminated the tip of his wand with a simple 'Lumos'.

Harry dragged his trunk behind himself as he gradually made his way to the nearest bedroom, his trunk clunking against the old, wooden stairs. Although he walked through the house with only his wand to guide him in the gloom of the night, Harry noticed that almost every surface was blanketed with a thick layer of dust, which soon got to him, resulting in a series of sneezes.

Harry frowned to himself, realising that he'll have to work on cleaning the entire house if he wanted to make it even somewhat liveable. Maybe moving out of the Burrow without a chance to thoroughly think it through was probably not the best idea, but there wasn't much he could do now that he'd already convinced the Weasleys that he'd be okay living in solitude, which was partially true.

Whisking away a layer of filth on an empty bed with one swoop of his wand, Harry decided that he'd ought to get a good night's sleep before even thinking about working on the rest of the house. But how hard would it really be? With the aid of magic right at his fingertips, Harry was sure it wouldn't take too long to free the house from the covetous clutches of the spiders and bugs that had seemed to claim Grimmauld Place as their own residence.

And as usual, Harry's assumption was a little off. He'd overestimated his power when it came to regular, everyday charms and spells. Of course Harry could knock somebody off their feet with no problem, but when it came to polishing every corner of an abandoned house, he did have a bit of difficulty. He could have asked Hermione for a hand during their morning fire-call, but he didn't want to put her through a day of labour for no reason. Besides, Harry was the only person who lived at Number 12 now so there was no use in making sure that the house didn't have a single piece of lint lying on the floor.

It did feel a little weird to Harry as he took a look at the house, lit up by the sun shining in through the windows, recalling that this place hadn't always been so lonely and dull as it had been a family home and meeting place for the Order of the Phoenix. But nobody could guess that from looking at the house in this state.

Harry worked through the majority of the day tirelessly, despite having to use Muggle methods of cleaning. It wasn't too hard nor tedious when it was what he'd spent his childhood doing, but it did get quite lonely. At least he used to have the Dursleys as a child, even if they didn't treat him like a human, but Grimmauld Place was even more depressing in Harry's opinion.

With the exception of the Black family's numerous photographs he'd come across during his cleaning, which had brought a few tears to Harry's eyes, there wasn't really much human interaction. The most he got was a photo of Sirius and Lupin smiling at him, with their arms wrapped around eachother. Damn, now photos were recieving more love than Harry?